Alagaesia's Legacy
by Marauder no. Five
Summary: One Boy...One Dragon...Some Other People...A World Of Adventure. A modern day girl finds herself in the middle of a favourite book. What's a girl to do? Romance, Adventure, Psychotic dictator bent on world domination. You won't want to put it down. M/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters, they belong to Christopher Paolini. I can only make a claim to those parts of the plot which are from my imagination and the characters that haven't been mentioned in previous books. Obviously, it would be great if I did, but I don't.

**A.N.** I wasn't sure where exactly I wanted to start this story, although I knew that I wanted it to start before we meet the Varden. My ingenious plan, open the book at a random page and go from the there. So if this story has a somewhat random beginning now you know why.

I ended up picking the chapter titled 'vision of perfection' from Eragon. The first part is directly from the book if you'd like to read up to there and know what's going on, but then I'm going to start screwing with things. I'll let you know where my story starts with a page break.

For those who can't be bothered, Eragon has just broken his wrist, incapacitated a bunch of Urgals, passed out and is now having a little snooze.

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**Alagaësia's Legacy**

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**Chapter 1**

Eragon twisted under the blankets, reluctant to open his eyes. He dozed, then a fuzzy thought entered his mind…_How did I get here?_ Confused, he pulled the blankets tighter and felt something hard on his right arm. He tried to move his wrist. It zinged with pain. _The Urgals!_ He bolted upright.

He lay in a small clearing that was empty save a small campfire heating a stew-filled pot. A squirrel chattered on a branch. His bow and quiver rested alongside the blankets. Attempting to stand made him grimace, as his muscles were feeble and sore. There was a heavy splint on his bruised right arm.

_Where is everyone?_ he wondered forlornly. He tried to call Saphira, but to his alarm could not feel her. Ravenous hunger gripped him, so he ate the stew. Still hungry, he looked for the saddlebags, hoping to find a chunk of bread. Neither the saddlebags nor the horses were in the clearing. _I'm sure there's a good reason for this,_ he thought, suppressing a surge of uneasiness.

He wandered about the clearing, then returned to his blankets and rolled them up. Without anything better to do, he sat against a tree and watched the clouds overhead. Hours passed, but Brom and Saphira did not show up. _I hope nothing's wrong._

As the afternoon dragged on, Eragon grew bored and started to explore the surrounding forest. When he became tired, he rested under a fir tree that leaned against a boulder with a bowl-shaped filled with clear dew water.

Eragon stared at the water and thought about Brom's instructions for scrying. _Maybe I can see where Saphira is. Brom said that scrying uses a lot of energy, but I'm stronger than he is…_ He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. In his mind he formed a picture of Saphira, making it as lifelike as possible. It was more demanding than he expected. Then he said "Draumr kόpa!" and gazed at the water.

Its surface became completely flat, frozen by an invisible force. The reflections disappeared and the water became clear. On it shimmered an image of Saphira. Her surroundings were pure white, but Eragon could see that she was flying. Brom sat on her back, beard streaming, sword on his knees.

Eragon tiredly let the image fade. _At least they're safe._ He gave himself a few minutes to recuperate, then looked back over the water. _Roran, how are you?_ In his mind he saw his cousin clearly. Impulsively, he drew upon the magic and uttered the words.

The water grew still, then the image formed on its surface. Roran appeared, sitting on an invisible chair. Like Saphira, his surroundings were white. There were new lines on Roran's face – he looked more like Garrow than ever before. Eragon held the image in place as long as he could. _Is Roran in Therinsford? He's certainly nowhere I've been._

The strain of using magic had brought beads of sweat to his forehead. He sighed and for a long time was content just to sit. Then an absurd notion struck him. _What if I tried to scry something I created with my imagination or saw in a dream? _He smiled. _Perhaps I'd be shown what my own consciousness looks like._

It was too tempting an idea to pass by. He knelt by the water once again. _What shall I look for?_ He considered a few things, but discarded them all when he remembered his dream about the woman in the cell.

After fixing the scene in his mind, he spoke the words and watched the water intently. He waited, but nothing happened. Disappointed, he was about to release the magic when inky blackness swirled across the water, covering the surface. The image of a lone candle flickered in the darkness, brightening to illuminate a stone cell. The woman from his dream was curled up on a cot in one corner. She lifted her head, dark hair falling back, and stared directly at Eragon. He froze, the force of her gaze keeping him in place. Chills ran up his spine as their eyes locked. Then the woman trembled and collapsed limply.

The water cleared. Eragon rocked back on his heels, gasping. "This can't be." _She shouldn't be real; I only dreamed about her! And how could I have scryed into a dungeon that I've never seen?_ He shook his head, wondering if any of his other dreams had been visions.

The rhythmic thump of Saphira's wings interrupted his thoughts. He hurried back to the clearing, arriving just as Saphira landed. Brom was on her back, as Eragon had seen, but his sword was now bloody. Brom's face was contorted; the edges of his beard were stained red. "What happened?" asked Eragon, afraid that he had been wounded.

"What happened?" roared the old man. "I've been trying to clean up your mess!" He slashed the air with the sword, flinging drops of blood along its arc. "Do you know what you did with that little trick of yours? Do you?"

"I stopped the Urgals from catching you," said Eragon, a pit forming in his stomach.

"Yes," growled Brom, "but that piece of magic nearly killed you! You've been sleeping for two days. There were twelve Urgals. _Twelve._ But that didn't stop you from trying to throw them all the way to Teirm, now did it? What were you thinking? Sending a rock through each of their heads would have been the smart thing to do. But no, you had to knock them unconscious so they could run away later. I've spent the last two days trying to track them down. Even with Saphira, three escaped!"

"I didn't want to kill them," said Eragon, feeling very small.

"It wasn't a problem in Yazuac."

"There was no choice then, and I couldn't control the magic. This time it just seemed…extreme."

"Extreme!" cried Brom. "It's not extreme when they wouldn't show you the same mercy. And why, oh why, did you _show_ yourself to them?"

"You said that they had found Saphira's footprints. It didn't make any difference if they saw me," said Eragon defensively.

Brom stabbed his sword into the dirt and snapped, "I said they had _probably_ found her tracks. We didn't know for certain. They might have believed they were chasing some stray travellers. But why would they think that now? After all, _you landed right in front of them!_ And since you let them live, they're scrambling around the country side with all sorts of fantastic tales! This might even get back to the Empire!" He threw his hands up. "You don't even deserve to be called a Rider after this, _boy._" Brom yanked his sword out of the ground and stomped to the fire. He took a rag from inside his robe and angrily began to clean the blade.

Eragon was stunned. He tried to ask Saphira for advice, but all she would say was, _Speak with Brom._

Hesitantly, Eragon made his way to the fire and asked, "Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

Brom sighed and sheathed his sword. "No, it wouldn't. Your feelings can't change what happened." He jabbed his finger at Eragon's chest. "You made some very bad choices that could have dangerous repercussions. Not the least of which is that you almost died. Died, Eragon! From now on you're going to have to think. There's a reason why were born with brains in our heads, not rocks."

Eragon nodded, abashed. "It's not as bad as you think, though; the Urgals already knew about me. They had orders to capture me."

Astonishment widened Brom's eyes. He stuck his unlit pipe in his mouth. "No it's not as bad as I thought. It's worse! Saphira told me you had talked with the Urgals, but she didn't mention this." The words tumbled out of Eragon's mouth as he quickly described the confrontation. "So they have some sort of leader now, eh?" questioned Brom.

Eragon nodded.

"And you just defied his wishes, insulted him and attacked his men?" Brom shook his head. "I didn't think it could get any worse. If the Urgals had been killed, your rudeness would have gone unnoticed, but now it will be impossible to ignore. Congratulations, you just made enemies with one of the most powerful beings in Alagaësia."

"All right, I made a mistake," said Eragon sullenly.

"Yes you did," agreed Brom, eyes flashing. "What has me worried, though, is who this Urgal leader is."

Shivering, Eragon asked softly, "What happens now?"

There was an uncomfortable pause.

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By the light of a lamp on her bedside table, a girl in her late teens was reading. Blankets pulled up to her chin to ward off the chill of the night air, she rubbed her eyes before turning a page. _Wow, he's a ranter._ Turning to look at the alarm clock on the table beside, the girl sighed. It read '11.30'; she would have to go to sleep soon if she wanted to stay awake in class tomorrow.

She had felt like reading about the hero and his dragon this weekend, stealing away to her room to immerse herself in the pages for hours at a time. But now, the weekend was drawing to a close and she would have to put the book away until she had a moment to spare it. One of her favourite books, _Eragon_ had taken a backseat to other favourites over the last few months. Seeing a light cover of dust had encouraged her to pull it down and, once she had started, it was hard to put it back down.

Sighing again, she brushed her away from where it was curling into face and turned another page.

"_And you just defied his wishes, insulted him and attacked his men?" Brom shook his head. "I didn't think it could get any worse."_ As she read, the girl did not notice a faint stirring begin in the curtains or the canopy around her bed. _"If the Urgals had been killed, your rudeness would have gone unnoticed, but now it will be impossible to ignore. Congratulations, you just made enemies with one of the most powerful beings in Alagaësia"_ She felt a slight breeze against her skin, warm, assuming that the central heating had come on again she continued to read.

"_All right, I made a mistake," said Eragon sullenly._

"_Yes you did," agreed Brom, eyes flashing. "What has me worried, though, is who this Urgal leader is."_ "Well, duh! Creepy shade dude Durza," she mumbled to herself. She noticed the breeze again. It was getting uncomfortably warm under her pile of blankets.

_Shivering, Eragon asked softly, "What happens now?"_ She kicked the blankets until they were no longer past her lap. The breeze seemed stronger

_There was an uncomfortable pause._ The breeze suddenly became far stronger. The air became warmer, as though it were summer. The curtains and bed hangings began to flap and billow, the girl's hair blowing about her face. Dolls were lifted from their chair by the door and spun around the room in the wake of the wind, joined by the clothes from the floor and the books from their shelves, pages separating from their covers.

The girl cried out as colours began swirl around her and the light from her lamp intensified to that of spotlight. She felt dizzy, as though she were spinning too. Then, as swiftly as the rushing wind had started, it stopped. The girl found herself abruptly standing, her feet on the ground and no longer under a mound of blankets. Her head swam and she sunk to her knees, collapsing onto ground as the world went dark.

...

One should never forget: It can always get worse. Especially when you you think or say that it can't.

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Please review. I would love to know what people think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters, they belong to Christopher Paolini. I can only make a claim to those parts of the plot which are from my imagination and the characters that haven't been mentioned in previous books. Obviously, it would be great if I did, but I don't. There are excerpts from the book in this chapter as well.

**A.N.** Don't expect chapters to continue at this wonderfully fast past. Updates will falter as my muse deserts me and goes on one of frequent vacations. I was recently inspired by reading 'Somber Resplendence' by Tarentella, another Inheritance Cycle fanfic. It was great…AND…it has a sequel in progress.

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**Chapter 2**

_Shivering, Eragon asked softly, "What happens now?"_

_There was an uncomfortable pause._

As Brom went to answer, the once gentle breeze picked up strength, became hotter, sending debris flying through the air. Saphira snorted as her wings were unfurled slightly by the strength of the gust, tucking them securely against her sides again as she crouched lower to the ground. Eragon and Brom shielded their eyes from the flying clouds of dirt and leaves. They turned their faces away as a bright light erupted from near the centre of the clearing, brighter than the midday sun.

As the light and the wind faded, Eragon blinked and moved his uninjured left hand to his sword, slowly withdrawing it at his eyes adjusted after the glare. He had turned from the light and was now facing Brom, the old man already had his sword drawn and was in a fighting stance facing the direction from which the light had come. Spinning to face the threat, Eragon raised his sword to a defensive position. Lowering slightly at what he saw.

A girl, about his age, perhaps older, was on her knees. Her hands were braced against the ground, supporting her weight. Brom took a step forward, just as the girl's head lowered and she collapsed onto the ground.

Brom paused a moment before continuing forward. As Eragon went to follow, Brom motioned for him to stay back, indicating with a nod of his head that Eragon should watch their surroundings. _Saphira, do you see anything?_ Eragon thought to her.

_No,_ she answered after a moment, _all appears well. But the air tingles with magic._ She had raised her head and was now watching Brom and the fallen girl carefully, raising body so she could pounce quickly if an enemy should show itself.

Brom nudged the body of the girl with foot, sword at the ready. At the resulting, if faint, groan he called back to Eragon. "Bring a length of rope from my bag."

The girl was still unconscious when Eragon knelt beside Brom and offered him the coil of rope. "She is unarmed. But I'd rather not take the chance," he said, tying her hands behind her back. "Now, lay out a blanket by the fire, we wouldn't want to ruin that pretty dress." Brom then lifted the girl into his arms and carried her over to where Eragon had quickly laid one his blankets from earlier that morning.

"Who is she?" asked Eragon, sitting down by Saphira where he could still keep a close eye on the girl. He twisted to look at Brom who was pulling what looked like a pack from where it had been partly hidden by the undergrowth near where the girl had first appeared.

Brom dropped the pack to the ground by the edge of the fire, reclining himself against a large rock before opening the bag and slowly removing the contents, one by one. "We will soon find out. Keep your sword at the ready; she will likely have friends looking for her." He glanced at the girl before returning his attention to the bag and its small pile of contents now on the ground beside him.

Eragon moved his sword so it sat across his lap. After several minutes he became bored, shifting to sit beside Brom. He picked up one of the items, what appeared to be a book. The cover had been removed but on the front leaf of paper was a painting of a horse, its rider fitted out in armour a long spear gripped in his hands. "A book?" he asked Brom.

"I am able to read the language but many of the words are unfamiliar to me. There are many others in her bag like it." He took the book from Eragon, turning it over in hands and looking at the words, _a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court_. Who was this King, this King Arthur?

Nodding, Eragon turned again to the pile. "Have you found out anything about her? You said she might have friends looking for her." He fingered one of the pieces of fabric. "These seem very fine. I don't think we have seen the like in Carvahall."

The old man shook his head, "No, I doubt you would in most towns." He sighed, "Either our little Miss is an excellent thief or…a rather wealthy young lady." Eragon looked up at this, glancing quickly at the girl then back to Brom.

He shook his head. "She can't be. Why would she be all the way out here?"

"That is what we will have to find out when she awakens."

"But a noble?" queried Eragon.

Brom nodded, "the fabric and stitching of these clothes is far superior to anything I have seen, though I'll admit I am not an expert on women's clothing. These however," he handed Eragon the book "This would have been very expensive. The print is small and precise. Someone spent a great amount of time to make this. I would have determined it to have been done by magic, only I can find no trace having been used in its creation. I would like to know why she would even consider removing it from its shelf let alone stuffing it in a pack that appears ready for travel." Indeed the pack did appear to have been made ready for traveling. It had been filled with clothing, blankets wrapped around parcels of food, some plates and bowls, a few small knives, a small pot nestled inside one slightly larger, several different pairs of shoes and a small leather purse filled with coins. "None of these appear to have been used before and do not appear to have been made for use by peasants. The metal work on those knives is exceptional. Again, I would have said magic but it does not appear to have been the case. When she awakens we will have to search her mind and see whether she means to cause us some mischief or another."

They were silent for a moment as Brom continued to look through her possessions, replacing them in the pack after satisfying himself there was no danger, from them at least. "What happens now?" asked Eragon.

Brom answered without looking up from his inspection of another of the books, this one orange and white with the strange word _Dracula_ in the middle. "When the girl awakens I have some questions to ask her. Your arm is going to take at least a couple of weeks to heal. That time would be well spent forging some sense into you. I suppose this is partially my fault. I've been teaching you how to do things, but not whether you _should_. It takes discretion, something you obviously lack. All the magic in Alagaësia won't help you if you don't know when to use it."

"But we're still going to Dras-Leona, right?" asked Eragon.

Brom rolled his eyes. "Yes, we can keep looking for the Ra'zac, but even if we find them, it won't do any good until you've healed." He began unsaddling Saphira. "I suppose we will have to camp here again for the night. We can't leave the girl out here by herself with Urgals roaming the area. Are you well enough to ride?"

"I think so."

"Good. I would like to leave as soon as possible."

Where are Cadoc and Snowfire?"

Brom pointed off to the side. "Over there a ways. I picketed them where there was grass." Eragon followed Brom to retrieve the saddlebags.

Saphira said pointedly, _If you had explained what you were planning to do, none of this would have happened. I would have told you it was a bad idea not to kill the Urgals. I only agreed to do what you asked because I assumed it was halfway reasonable!_

_I don't want to talk about it._

_As you wish,_ she sniffed.

After near two hours had passed, Eragon had built up the fire and begun preparing their evening meal. While skinning a rabbit Brom had caught the day before, Eragon would glance at the girl asleep by the fire. Her long brown hair had curled around her face, falling in loose ringlets on the ground around her head and shoulders. He had to admit she certainly didn't look like a farmer's daughter or your common variety thief. Her skin was fair and appeared clean as did her hair and clothes. He could see what Brom had meant about not ruining her dress when he had asked Eragon to lay out a blanket. It was a rich black colour, more of a robe then a dress, with the brightest of pinks Eragon had ever seen used to trim the edges of the dress and line the hood. Her feet were bare but also appeared to be remarkably clean, as though the only time she had stepped foot on the ground had been just before she had collapsed after the blinding flash of light.

As he was making his observations, Eragon detected that the girl was stirring. She wriggled discreetly on her side for a moment, twitching her hands in the bonds of the rope, stilling as a shadow settled over her, cast by Saphira's rising head coming to halt above her. Brom had looked up at the movement from Saphira and was getting to feet as the girl rolled onto her back slightly and gazed up into the eyes of the dragon.

The girl cried out, flinching back from the large jaw so close to her face and trying to wriggle out from beneath it. The moment Saphira moved her head back, however, the girl froze, her breathing coming in short rapid bursts, whimpers occasionally escaping. _She is scared and beginning to panic. I can't enter her mind while she is like this._ Saphira told Eragon, as the girl closed her eyes and started to shake. She pulled back her great head and lay on the ground behind the girl, where she could observe them and protect Eragon while staying out of the girl's immediate line sight.

Brom had picked up his sword as he stood. He was now kneeling beside the girl, listening to her mutter "Not real. Not real," over and over to herself. He reached out and gently put a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away from his touch, eyes flying open as she squirmed backwards across the ground, stopping as she reached the boulder Brom had been seated against earlier. Saphira stayed curled behind her, out of view. "We're not here to hurt you," he told her softly, taking a step forward.

She quickly looked around the clearing, taking in her surroundings. Freezing again, her breath hitching then speeding up, slowly, she turned to glance over her shoulder. At seeing the impressive bulk of Saphira's scaly body, the girl hastily got to her feet, cautiously edging back towards the line of trees, her eyes never leaving the Dragon's.

Brom took another step towards her, hand out, "She won't hurt you. There is nothing to fear," he coaxed soothing. "Come and sit down. You're safe here."

The girl blinked, eyes flicking between Brom, holding his sword at his side with his other arm partially extended towards her, and Eragon, still standing by the fire with the half-skinned rabbit by his feet and hunting knife in his hand. She shook her head; no. Brom stepped forward again, the girl matching him step for step. Suddenly she found her back pressed against a tree.

Brom stared into her eyes for almost a minute, nodded, then returned to his previous position by the fire, watching her from there. _I could not see her thoughts. Saphira, can you? _Saphira sent back a negative response.

_There is no wall, no resistance. Yet I sense little from her thoughts. There is fear, confusion, but nothing else._

The girl watched him warily from where she stood; shooting glances towards the dragon, which had yet to move from its spot, curled at the edge of the clearing and the boy with the knife, who had, at a gesture from the man, resumed skinning the rabbit and adding pieces of the flesh to a pot over the fire. Brom gestured to a log by the fire, indicating she should come and sit.

A cool breeze swept through the clearing, causing the girl to shiver. It brought with it the smell of the cooking rabbit and she felt her stomach tighten with hunger. When the man asked her again to come back and sit with them, she hesitated. She could stay where she was or try running away; she doubted she'd get very far with her hands bound like this. Also the creature, the _dragon_, looked familiar. She thought back to the last thing she remembered. She had been in bed, reading and then a dizzying wind. She paused. She'd been reading, reading _Eragon_. Her head shot up and she looked closely at the two males by the fire. The boy had dark hair and couldn't be more than fifteen and had a crude splint tied to his right forearm, while the old man had white hair and a tangled, knotted beard that reached near to his chest. Then there was the dragon, blue with spines from head to tail. _Okay, so I'm dreaming._ As with saying 'it couldn't be any worse' or 'at least it's not raining', this is a phrase you want to avoid. Rarely do people acknowledge they're dreaming in a dream. _Oh, I hope I'm dreaming._ The rope binding her hands behind her shifted as she adjusted the position of her hands, a coil of the rope pinching her skin as it was moved. _Ow! Not dreaming then._ She took a deep breath and slowly walked forward until she was standing next to the log. She did not sit.

The two sitting by the fire had stopped what they were doing and looked up at her approach. The old man gestured towards the log again, she shook her head. They waited while she gathered her thoughts. After a calming breath she asked, "Where am I? Who are you? How did I get here? And why are my hands tied?" Her voice was soft, but could be heard easily in the equally quiet clearing. They looked at each other. The pause lengthened until she felt they would not answer her questions.

"We have questions for you as well. Sit and we will tell you what we know, if you'll do the same." The old man said, indicating again the log next to her.

"If you'll untie my hands first," was the girl's reply. The old man nodded his head and standing, walked over to her. As she warily watched his movements he slipped a knife between the coils of the rope, cutting them loose. "Thank you," she said, sitting down on the log.

The boy dished out a portion of what appeared to be a stew from the pot, handing her the bowl and a spoon. She nodded her thanks to him then turned to his companion. He watched her for a moment before beginning. "We are currently in the Spine, in the northern territories of Alagaësia." Her breath caught. "You appeared rather strangely, I must say. Raging wind and a flash of light, you collapsed soon after and were unconscious for a few hours. You will have to forgive us for restraining you, but we are men on the run and weren't sure if you might mean to harm us." The girl looked down at herself, barefoot and wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown. She looked back at the old man, eyebrow raised incredulously. "The air prickled with magic when you arrived and appearances can be deceiving when one is dealing with magicians. As for our names, mine is Neal and this is Brock, my nephew." He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Now what, my dear, is your story?"

"First tell me your _real_ names. I believe I already know and I do not like being lied too."

The old man appeared shocked, once again becoming wary as he looked at her. "You are very perceptive."

"No, just well informed." She answered, looking over her shoulder towards the dragon.

"I see. Very well then, my name is Brom and this is Eragon. The Dragon is Saphira. What is your name, and where do you hail from? Your family must be missing you terribly." He added.

She hadn't thought about that, what would her parents be thinking, they must be worried sick. The wind had torn her room to pieces, books and clothes everywhere. How would she get back? This was a fantasy world after all. "My name is Bree, Brianna Scott. I'm from Australia. My family may not know I'm missing yet, it was the middle of the night when the wind started. Don't take this the wrong way Brom, but you don't really exist. You are just a character from a book, so is the Rider." She could see she had confused them. "Where I come from, you are characters in a book, you aren't real. Someone imagined you and wrote down a story about you."

"I don't feel imagined," stated Eragon. _They must think I've gone mad._ She thought.

"Of course you wouldn't. Here you're real, yes. But somehow I'm here in your world, and I _shouldn't_ be." She stated emphatically.

Brom nodded, "that may be the reason why neither Saphira nor I can access your thoughts, just the surface clouds of emotion.

Bree leant back in shock, "you tried to read my mind!" Then she thought about their position, on the run from the Empire, and sighed. "Alright," she conceded, "I suppose if I were in your position I would want to be sure I was safe. Galbatorix does have spies everywhere I guess."

"How is it you know so much of 'our world', as you put it? From your books?" He pulled over the pack and retrieved a black book with a picture of a chess piece.

"Where did you get that?" exclaimed Bree, reaching for the well-loved book.

Brom indicated the bag lying next to him, "I almost overlooked your pack, it was half hidden in the brush."

"It's not mine," said Bree, "but this is." She had opened the cover to see her name on the first page; _property of Brianna Scott._ Bree stood and moved to crouch next to the pack, keeping it between Brom and herself. Pulling open the flap she realised that it was full of her clothes as well other books from her room at home and a range of items she had never seen before and knew did not belong to her. "These are too," she said, frowning as she pulled out a tan coloured tee-shirt with a print of a leopard on the front, seeing faded, light blue jeans folded neatly beneath it.

"This is very interesting," Brom mused, "the pack appears to be for you. Whoever or whatever sent you here seems to think you'll need what it contains. Though why a noble lady has been dropped in the middle of nowhere with a _traveller's_ pack, I could not tell you."

"A lady? What makes you say that?" Bree asked, looking up from her inspection of the packs contents, confusion showing in her eyes.

"You are hardly are a pauper if you can claim to own those books. Everything in there is of a high quality, too expensive for the majority of the people in this country. You have three pairs of shoes, none of which look suited to even a day's travelling on foot."

"Oh."

Eragon had finished his stew and was now leaning forward, having been listening intently to what was being said. "So you are a noble?" he asked cautiously, quickly adding an uncertain, "ma'am".

"Oh, no! I mean, I'm not a pauper, like you said, but I'm not…oh…how to explain? Where I'm from we don't exactly have an upper-class. I mean we have people with titles, but they're just ordinary people." Eragon visibly relaxed. Class must be an important issue here.

"Do you have anywhere you will go; we are leaving tomorrow, hunting the Ra'zac."

Bree had to think how to answer that. "I suppose I'll come with you. If that's alright?" she glanced apprehensively at Brom then back to Eragon, "I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing, if _I_ ran into a group of Urgals I'm positive I'd come out of it with worse than just a broken arm. This isn't my world."

Brom interjected before Eragon could continue. "You may accompany us until the next town. We will decide there what will do next. It is getting late and you had both best be getting some rest. We need to have the horses saddled and ready to leave at first light."

Eragon retrieved a blanket from the items Bree had removed from the pack during her search, spreading it out for her on the ground by the fire. "You'd best get some sleep, he means it when he says first light." Bree nodded, finished the bowl of stew, which was surprisingly good seeing as she had never had rabbit before, and lay down on the blanket.

"Thank you, Eragon, goodnight. 'Night Brom." She closed her eyes then sat up abruptly, looking across the clearing towards where Saphira lay concealed in shadow and called "goodnight Saphira!"

Eragon chuckled, throwing some more branches onto the fire, a shower of embers floating towards the sky, "Saphira says 'goodnight' too." Eragon lay down on a blanket spread out by Brom's on the other side of the fire to Bree's. She noticed that Brom was lying on his back, his sword in his hand.

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Okay so that's chapter two. I hope you enjoyed it. Review and let me know what you think, I really appreciated feedback from my readers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters, they belong to Christopher Paolini. I can only make a claim to those parts of the plot which are from my imagination and the characters that haven't been mentioned in previous books. Obviously, it would be great if I did, but I don't.

I have taken original parts of the book again for this chapter. I've decided that it helps to keep my writing on track, so expect them to pop up on occasion throughout this story.

**A.N.** Just so you know, these won't all be long chapters like the first two. I will try, though they'll probably just end a t good stopping points. They also won't all come out this quickly. I just happened to be on a roll, which is beginning to turn into sleep deprivation.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. I am trying to respond to all of you but there have been some that I've missed. I'm sorry if that was you.

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**Chapter 3**

He wasn't kidding. There was a faint brightening of the sky, an orange glow near the horizon, when Bree was nudged awake. Groggily, she had pulled out the faded jeans from the night before, a long sleeved, green button up shirt, a pair of socks and a comfortable pair of sneakers. Going partway into the forest, Bree quickly stripped down and changed out of the pyjamas she had worn the day before. She would have loved a hot shower to wake her up; the others certainly needed one too. The first thing she had noticed when she awoke was the smell; it was the same as her teenage brothers, but in summer, times ten.

"We will need to organise a horse for you, until we do you can ride with Eragon or myself." He looked at her, "you _can_ ride a horse?"

Embarrassed, Bree admitted, "as long as it doesn't go to fast, it's more trying not fall off than actually riding at that point." Brom grunted and turned away, securing their bags to the horse's saddles.

The sun had still to make its appearance when the trio set out, Bree sitting riding Snowfire behind Brom. She had realised last night that he didn't completely trust her; he rarely left her alone with Eragon, reminding him to carry his sword every time left. Bree understood, she just hoped they didn't ditch her somewhere and ride off. She wasn't too keen on this whole 'hunt down the Ra'zac' thing Eragon had going but being alone in this fictional land was certainly not an option right now.

As they rode, every bump and dip in the trail made Eragon grit his teeth with discomfort. If he had been alone, he would have stopped. With Brom and the girl there, he dared not complain. Also, Brom started drilling him with difficult scenarios involving Urgals, magic, and Saphira. The imagined fights were many and varied. Sometimes a shade or other dragons were included. Eragon discovered that it was possible to torture his body and mind at the same time. He got most of the questions wrong and became increasing frustrated. It did not help that when Bree answered a question she was usually right or very close.

When they stopped for the night, Brom grumbled shortly, "It was a start." Eragon knew that he was disappointed. Bree had needed to be helped down from the saddle, her whole body sore from the day's riding and had simply laid out her blanket and fallen asleep as soon as the horses had been unpacked, skipping the light dinner of bread and cold meat.

The next day was easier on all of them. Eragon felt better and was able to answer more of Brom's questions correctly and Bree had been able to sleep in until sunrise, helping Eragon to cook breakfast or at least she was able to cut some root vegetables Eragon had collected during his travels.

After an especially difficult exercise, Eragon mentioned his scrying of the woman. Brom pulled on his beard and Bree looked up from where she was sorting through possessions. "You say she was imprisoned?"

"Yes."

"Did you see her face?" asked Brom intently.

"Not very clearly. The lighting was bad, yet I could tell that she was beautiful." Bree snorted something that sounded like 'boys'. "It's strange; I didn't have any problem seeing her eyes. And she did look at me."

Brom shook his head. "As far as I know, it's impossible for anyone to know if they are being scryed upon."

"Do you know who she might be?" asked Eragon, surprised by the eagerness in his own voice.

"Not really," admitted Brom. "If pressed, I suppose I could come up with a few guesses, but none of them would be very likely. This dream of yours is peculiar. Somehow you managed to scry in your sleep something that you'd never seen before – without saying the words of power. Dreams do occasionally touch the spirit realm, but this is different."

"Perhaps to understand this we should search every prison and dungeon until we find the woman," bantered Eragon. He actually thought it would be a good idea. Brom laughed but Bree was frowning. "What?" asked Eragon.

"She wouldn't be happy if did that," she answered, turning to Eragon who was riding behind them on the trail.

"The woman?"

Bree shook her head. "The elf. Arya."

Brom pulled Snowfire to a sudden halt on the trail, turning in the saddle to seize Bree by the shoulder and turn her to look at him. "How do you know that name," he demanded.

"I've read about her."

"Where? Explain."

Bree sighed. "The books I said you were characters from, the ones from my world," she paused, checking the two were following her. "Arya is an important character, plot wise. She was the elf in charge of carrying Saphira's egg between the Elves and the Varden. She was ambushed by a Shade and had to use magic to send Saphira away," she looked to Eragon who had brought Cadoc up alongside her and Brom on Snowfire. "She sent the egg away and it ended up in the spine, at the feet of the new Rider. The Shade took her prisoner and you've seen where she is now."

"What of her escorts, the elves sent with her for protection?" asked Brom, frowning in concern.

"They fell as soon as the Urgals attacked."

Brom's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You said they were ambushed by a Shade. Urgals do not join forces with Shades."

"And apparently they don't really join forces with other Urgals either. I don't know how much you were able to hear in Carvahall, but they have been massing in large forces, tearing through the country side. You saw what they did in Yazuac. The Shade is behind it; he has control over the Urgals and has twisted them into monsters."

Disbelief was written on his face. "A Shade? Why would he want to unite the Urgals?"

"I doubt _he_ does. He works for Galbatorix, his name's Durza. He was the one those Urgals you fought before would have taken you to." Bree frowned. "So you've pissed off the ruler of your country, the Ra'zac, and a Shade. Why am I travelling with you again? I must have some kind of a death wish.

"Trouble does seem to follow Eragon around like a shadow."

Bree snorted, "You're not so squeaky clean yourself Brom, I know what you and Jeod got up to in Urủ'baen. Galbatorix won't be too thrilled with either of you at the moment."

"All that was in your book?" Brom was in shock. This strange girl, who had appeared from nowhere, how could she know all this? Unless she was telling the truth about where she came from? It was the only explanation he could settle on.

"Brom? I know you don't trust me, you have little reason to, but I am from a different world and you were just characters in book there." Brom nodded and nudged Snowfire into a trot, Cadoc following close behind.

"You knew the elf had been captured, do you know she is?"

"Yes. She's Durza plaything in a dungeon in Gil'ead."

Eragon spurred Cadoc forward, cutting off Snowfire. "Gil'ead is not that far, we need to go and rescue her," he exclaimed.

"Eragon-" Brom started but was cut off by Bree, shaking her head and talking over him.

"She would kick your ass, Eragon, for even contemplating it. She knew what she was risking, running a dragon egg through the Empire. She made sure to get Saphira as far from Durza as she could, she wouldn't want you walking right into their hands after everything she'd done to keep Saphira from the Empire. Gil'ead is an army barracks, full of soldiers who would be quite happy to send you to the king in chains. Saphira would have no choice but to follow, her life is dependent on yours and she cares for you to much to leave you to suffer. Besides, do you really think you're up to fighting a Shade? Durza will be there, you can count on that."

Eragon bowed his head, "Yes, you're right. But we can't just leave her to such a fate."

Brom shook his head, he had known Arya. "You are not ready to fight them, Eragon. If we continue to follow the Ra'zac's trail I will have the time to spend training you. It will also give us an opportunity to devise a plan."

When Eragon agreed, they continued on their journey south. Brom's strict training filled nearly every hour as the days slowly blended into weeks. Because of his splint Eragon was forced to use his left hand whenever they sparred. Before long he could duel as well with his left hand as he had with right. Bree had also come a long way from the modern day girl she had once been, with little idea how to fight or hunt when she had first arrived. Now she could fell a deer with a single arrow, snare rabbits, and was beginning to be a match for Eragon. She still had yet to win against him when they sparred but she was getting close. Neither of the two though, could beat the old man. He was faster and stronger than he looked, easily deflecting or side-stepping their blows.

Bree's muscles had developed, Brom's sword had once been almost too heavy for her to carry, but now she could swing it in graceful arcs, parrying against Eragon's own blade. The dressing gown she had been wearing that first night had proved a lifesaver in the cold weather. Though thin, the material was extremely warm. It was styled after gothic robes and the way it was cut made it practical for use during a sword fight. The top was tight enough that it didn't get in the way, the bottom providing little obstruction to her legs as she moved. She was also trusted more by Brom and Eragon, having managed to avoid murdering them in their sleep. This had particularly endeared her to Saphira who could become easily frustrated by Brom's surprising loud snores.

By the time they crossed the spine and came to the plains, spring had crept over Alagaësia, summoning a multitude of flowers, which Bree had taken to weaving through her hair and the horses' manes and bridles. To help with the guy smell, she had said. Bree had bathing the best she could, using wet rags to wash away the worst of the dirt and smell of travel from her body the best she could, encouraging the men to do the same. The bare deciduous trees were russet with buds, while new blades of grass began to push up between last year's dead stalks. Birds returned from their winter absence to make and build nests.

The travellers followed the Toark River southeast, along the edge of the Spine. It grew steadily as tributaries flowed into it from every side, feeding its bulging girth. When the river was over a league wide, Brom pointed at the silt islands that dotted the water. "We're close to Leona Lake now," he said. "It's only about two leagues away."

"Do you think we can get there before nightfall?" asked Eragon.

"We can try."

Bree sighed. "Oh, I hope so. I would love a proper bath with hot water, but with the way I smell right now I think I might settle for a cold lake."

Dusk soon made the trail hard to follow, but the sound of the river at their side guided them. When the moon rose, the bright disk provided enough light to see what lay ahead.

Leona Lake looked like a thin sheet of silver beaten over the land. The water was so calm and smooth it did not even seem to be liquid. Aside from the bright strip of moonlight reflecting off the surface, it was indistinguishable from the ground. Saphira was on the rocky shore, fanning her wings to dry them. Eragon greeted her and she said, _The water is lovely – deep, cool and clear._

_Maybe I'll go swimming tomorrow,_ he responded. When he had passed on to the others what Saphira had said, Bree gave a whoop of joy as she slid from the saddle behind Brom, moving to put her hand in the water. The temperature of the water was cold, expected at the end of winter, but not unbearably so. She felt she could jump in quickly and get most of the gunk off her skin before she would freeze to death. She would wait until tomorrow though, when the air would be that fraction warmer. They set up camp under a stand of trees and were soon asleep.

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Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters, they belong to Christopher Paolini. I can only make a claim to those parts of the plot which are from my imagination and the characters that haven't been mentioned in previous books. Obviously, it would be great if I did, but I don't.

**A.N. **I hate bringing work home with me, I really should be finishing it but I think you'll all agree with me that a new chapter is infinitely more fun. I'll procrastinate like a good writer a put the boring stuff off until tomorrow.

Updates will slow and probably shorten as I diverge from the book. For now I have ready-made content that only needs a few adjustments or additions to include what I want. You've been warned.

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**Chapter 4**

At dawn, Eragon eagerly rushed out to see the lake in daylight. A white-capped expanse of water rippled with fan-shaped patterns where the wind brushed it. The pure size delighted him. He whooped and ran into the water. _Saphira, where are you? Let's have some fun!_

The moment Eragon climbed onto her, she jumped out over the water. They soared upward, circling over the lake, but even at that height the opposing shore was not visible. _Would you like to take a bath?_ Eragon casually asked Saphira. _Bree is always complaining that we smell bad._

_She complains that _you_ smell bad_ chuckled Saphira's voice in his head. She grinned wolfishly. _Hold on!_ She locked her wings and sank to the waves, clipping the crests with her claws. The water sparkled in the sunlight as they sailed over it. Eragon whooped again. Then Saphira folded her wings and dived into the lake, her head and neck entering it like a lance.

The water hit Eragon like an icy wall, knocking out his breath and almost tearing him off Saphira. He held on tightly as she swam to the surface. With three strokes of her feet she had breached it and sent a burst of shimmering water to the sky. Eragon gasped and shook his hair as Saphira slithered across the lake, using her tail as a rudder.

_Ready?_

Eragon nodded and took a deep breath, tightening his arms. This time they slid gently under the water. They could see for yards through the unclouded liquid. Saphira twisted and turned in fantastic shapes, slipping through the water like an eel. Eragon felt as if he were riding a sea serpent of legend.

Just as his lungs started to cry for air, Saphira arched her back and pointed her head upward. An explosion of droplets haloed them as she leapt into the air, wings snapping open. With two powerful flaps she gained altitude.

_Wow! That was fantastic,_ exclaimed Eragon.

_Yes, _said Saphira happily. _Though it's a pity you can't hold your breath longer._

_Nothing I can do about that, _he said, pressing water out of his hair. His clothes were drenched, and the wind from Saphira's wings chilled him. He pulled at his splint – his wrist itched. They circled the lake for a few more minutes before slowly turning back towards the shore and camp.

Bree had followed Eragon down to the shore at more sedate pace. With the dawn had come a warm breeze and she was prepared to take full advantage of it. Setting a blue towel she had found in her pack over a branch by the water, Bree had quickly stripped down to her underwear, a pair of boy shorts and a singlet top. Taking a deep breath she had rushed into water, quickly submerging herself and scrubbing everything she could reach. She lasted perhaps a minute before her teeth began chattering and she had to leave the water. As she wrapped the towel around herself she looked across the lake watching as Saphira dived, skimming the tops of the small waves as she flew over them. Running back up the shore to their camp, Bree used a blanket covered Snowfire as a screen while she changed quickly into green cargo pants and a long sleeved, pale pink shirt.

Flopping onto the ground next to where Brom sat sharpening his sword with a wet stone, she shoved her feet into a pair of soft leather boots she had also found within her pack. A whoop sounded across the water and she smiled. "A boy and his Dragon." Bree said, smiling at the faint grin pulling at Brom's lips. "Aww, the proud Father." She laughed as the grin turned to a look of shock and confusion, before clearing once again into what she beginning to think of as his 'serious Brom' face. _He should smile more,_ she thought.

"You know then." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. You should tell him." She had grown serious as well. "He knows little about Selena, only what his uncle told him and she had been gone for years before turning up on his doorstep. It would do him good to hear more about the two of you."

Brom nodded. "One day I will. I do not want him to start thinking of me as a father though, if it means he starts risking his life to protect mine. And his mother and I…we weren't in the kind of relationship approved of by society."

"I understand. But do you really think he wouldn't risk his life for you now anyway?" There was a pause, the only sound from their camp the whinny of the horses and the strokes of the wet stone against the steel of Brom's sword. "He's not going to think less of you, you know. He probably already considers himself somewhat of a bastard child; no-one knew who his father was. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to find out it was you." She had rested her hand on his shoulder as she spoke, standing now as she looked out to the lake. "Here they come." The arrival of the dragon and her Rider put an end to their conversation and heralded the dismantling of the camp.

Once Eragon was dry, he and Brom saddled the horses while Bree kicked dirt over the remnants of their fire, before they started around Leona Lake. Everyone was in high spirits, Saphira playfully diving in and out of the water and Bree thankful that Brom had chosen to take a bath that morning as well: she could hardly smell either of them today, the horses though would be in for a nasty shock if she ever found a bottle of shampoo.

Before dinner, Eragon blocked Zar'roc's edge in preparation for their usual sparring. Sometimes he and Bree would stand off against each other while Brom watched, better to observe and correct their moves and postures, and sometimes he would fight Brom first, Brom instructing Bree after he had inevitably defeated Eragon. Whoever didn't have a sword in their hand was usually watching from the side of the fire where they stirred that night's dinner.

Tonight he would go first against Brom. Neither he nor Brom moved as they waited for the other to strike first. Eragon inspected their surroundings for anything that might give him an advantage. A stick near the fire caught his attention.

Eragon swooped down, grabbed the stick, and hurled it a Brom. The splint got in his way, though, and Brom easily sidestepped the piece of wood causing Bree to shriek "Hey!" as it narrowly missed hitting her in the head. The old man rushed forward, swinging his sword. Eragon ducked just as the blade whistled over his head. He growled and tackled Brom ferociously.

They pitched to the ground, each struggling to stay on top. Eragon rolled to the side and swept Zar'roc over the ground at Brom's shins. Brom parried the blow with the hilt of his sword, then jumped to his feet. Twisting as he stood, Eragon attacked again, guiding Zar'roc through a complex pattern. Sparks danced from their blades as they struck again and again. Brom blocked each blow, his face tight with concentration. But Eragon could tell that he was tiring. The relentless hammering continued as each sought an opening in the other's defences.

Then Eragon felt the battle change. Blow by blow he gained advantage; Brom's parries slowed and he lost ground. Eragon easily blocked a stab from Brom. Veins pulsed on the old man's forehead and cords bulged in his neck from the effort.

Suddenly confident, Eragon swung Zar'roc faster than ever, weaving a web of steel around Brom's sword. With a burst of speed, he smashed the flat of his blade against Brom's guard and knocked the sword to the ground. Before Brom could react, Eragon flicked Zar'roc up to his throat.

They stood panting, the red sword tip resting on Brom's collarbone. A cheer erupted from beside the fire as Bree jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Eragon. "That. Was. Excellent!" she exclaimed giving him a hug. Eragon slowly lowered his arm and backed away. It was the first time he had bested Brom without resorting to trickery. Brom picked up his sword and sheathed it. Still breathing hard, he said, "we're done for today."

"But we just started," said Eragon, startled.

Brom shook his head. "I can teach you nothing more of the sword. Of all the fighters I've met, only three of them could have defeated me like that, and I doubt any of them could have done it with their left hand." He smiled ruefully. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I can tell that you're a talented and rare swordsman."

"Does this mean we're not going to spar every night?" asked Bree hopefully. It was nice knowing how to defend yourself, but boy, did it make your arms and shoulders sore.

"Oh, you're not getting out of it," laughed Brom. "Eragon can go easier now, but you still have a lot to learn." Bree groaned, flopping back to ground. Brom Turned to Eragon, "it's not as important for you if we miss a night here or there." He wiped his brow, taking a seat next to Bree and accepting the bowl of stew she handed him. "Just remember, both of you, if you ever have the misfortune to fight an elf – trained or not, female or male – expect to lose. They, along with dragons and other creatures of magic, are many times stronger than nature intended. Even the weakest elf could easily overpower you. The same goes for the Ra'zac – they are not human and tire much more slowly than we do."

"Is there any way to become their equal?" asked Eragon. He sat cross-legged by Saphira.

Bree tuned out their conversation. She had almost forgotten they were hunting the Ra'zac, had pushed all thoughts of them to the back of her mind. The Ra'zac would find Eragon eventually, being servants of the king, but should they really be seeking them out? Maybe going to Arya would have been the better idea. She shook her head, no, they'd be in the same position but this time with a Shade. She looked to the two talking by the glow of the fire. Brom would know what to do, but could she tell him why they should avoid Dras-Leona? She sighed, re-joining their conversation on fighting with magic.

"Well," Eragon said, leaning on an elbow. "Suppose I was attacked by a Shade. How could I block his magic? Most spells take place instantaneously, which makes it impossible to react in time. And even if I could, how would I nullify an enemy's magic? It seems I would have to know my opponents intentions _before_ he acted." He paused. "I just don't see how it can be done. Whoever attacked first would win."

Brom sighed. "What you are talking about – a 'wizards' duel,' if you will – is extremely dangerous." Bree had a sudden flash of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy duelling it out in the great hall of Hogwarts, the Potion's Master and the Fraud hovering at either end. "Haven't you ever wondered how Galbatorix was able to defeat all of the Riders with the help of only a dozen or so traitors?"

Bree and Eragon shook their heads, Eragon had just supposed there wasn't a vast amount of Riders to begin with and Bree had left it up to the books believing they would explain later, which they had. "I never thought about it," acknowledged Eragon.

"There are several ways. Some you'll learn about later, but the main one is that Galbatorix was, and still is, a master of breaking into people's minds. You see, in a wizards' duel there are strict rules that each side must observe or else both contestants will die. To begin with, no one uses magic until one of the participants gains access to the others mind."

Saphira curled her tail comfortably around Eragon and asked, _Why wait? By the time an enemy realises that you've attacked, it will be too late for him to act._ Eragon repeated the question out loud for the benefit of Brom and Bree.

Brom shook his head. "No, it won't. If I were to suddenly use my power against you, Eragon, you would surely die, but in the brief moment before you were destroyed, there would be time for a counter-attack. Therefore, unless one combatant has a death wish, neither side attacks until one of them has breached the other's defences."

"Then what happens?" Eragon inquired, both he and Bree had leant forward as Brom had been speaking. You could see why he had chosen to become the storyteller of Carvahall. You couldn't help but listen to what he was saying.

"Brom shrugged and said, "Once you're inside your enemy's mind, it's easy enough to anticipate what he will do and prevent it. Even with that advantage, it's still possible to lose if you don't know how to counteract spells."

Placing his empty bowl on the ground, Brom filled and lit his pipe. "And that requires extraordinarily quick thinking. Before you can defend yourself, you have to understand the exact forces directed at you. If you're being attacked with heat, you have to know whether it is being conveyed to you through air, fire, light, or some other medium. Only once that's known can you combat the magic by, for instance, chilling the heated the material."

"Then you'll find yourself being pelted with shards of ice," joked Bree. At Brom's frown, she continued in a more serious manner. "I know what you're trying to say. It takes the average person three to five seconds to react to something. It sounds like a long time but that's with noticing something is going to hit you, registering where it is in relation to your body, how fast its moving, all that even before you consider you have to add in whether you're going to it or move out of way and how you'll do that."

"It sounds difficult."

"Extremely," confirmed Brom. A plume of smoke rose from his pipe. "Seldom can people survive such a duel for more than a few seconds. The enormous amount of effort and skill required condemns anyone without the proper training to a quick death. Once you've progressed, I'll start teaching you the necessary methods. In the meantime, if you ever find yourself facing a wizards' duel, I suggest you run away as fast as you can."

"What about Bree?" asked Eragon. "If they can't access their mind how would the duel work?"

Brom rubbed his chin in thought, looking at Bree as he contemplated Eragon's question. During their journey together across the foot hills of the Spine, it had been determined that no matter how hard they tried neither Brom nor Saphira could gain entry into Bree's mind. Brom had suggested that it may be a result of her switch in realities. Her mind closing itself to the probing of others in order to protect the information it carried about their futures. They had figured though, that the fewer people who knew what she did, the better. "I do not suppose it would work," he mused. "I have neglected to test you for any aptitude for magic, something we will rectify first thing tomorrow, but I would guess that should you learn to infiltrate the minds of your opponents, you would have a clear field from which to make your attack."

Bree was a little shocked. She had never considered the possibility of her being able to perform magic. It wasn't something she would have expected from her old life, but here things seemed to revolve around magic and those wielded it. Knocking pipe against his palm to empty it of burnt tobacco, Brom gestured for Bree to rise. "Now that this old man has had a rest, let us see how you are progressing with the sword." Eragon handed Bree Zar'roc, its edges still dulled from the earlier fight, and she followed Brom to the edge of the firelight.

Brom fought to win. With the sharp-edged blades of the swords dulled using magic, there was little chance of a major injury other that a direct blow from your opponents sword, the things had some mass to them, so Brom did not hold back. Once Bree had mastered the basic techniques of swordplay, she found that Brom gave his all in a fight, forcing her to defend herself as though she were fighting a real enemy.

They slowly circled around the fire; Brom usually had her on the defensive from the beginning, forcing her back a step at a time, Bree only managing the occasional offensive strike. It was all over in just a few minutes, Brom brought his sword down near head and when she blocked the blow the force of it made her knees buckle and she found herself kneeling in the dirt, a sword tip at her throat. "Again," said Brom. Groaning, Bree got to her feet, raising Zar'roc in defensive position. Bree rarely made the first move in a fight, preferring to wait and be prepared for her attacker, so rather than wait for her to attack him, Brom swiftly swung his sword towards her legs. Bree blocked the strike with the blade of her sword, already stepping back to distance herself from Brom.

Bree was not as natural a swordsman as Eragon and it was unlikely she would even come close to either he or Brom. Her best bet in a duel was her speed and her mind, she could block a strike quicker than Eragon could but she didn't have the strength to continuously block _and_ fight back. Her technique was to stay on the defensive, dodging whatever she could and waiting for an opening in which she could make her move. It didn't happen often but Eragon now had a faint scar across the back of his arm where she'd managed to get him as they spared with sticks. It was a lesson for him in not letting your guard down around an opponent. She would also use trickery to her advantage, Eragon might try to distract them with kicks and punches occasionally thrown into a fight, but Bree would take it one step further. Bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping for breath, she waited for Brom to step forward and raise his sword before swinging her own low to ground aiming for his shins. Brom had needed to jump in order to avoid her blade. She took her chance and swung again at his legs curving up at the last minute towards his hip. Brom had moved to block her and easily had his sword in position to deflect her attack. Bringing his blade around to connect with her shoulder, pushing her off balance, he finished the duel with the edge of his sword stopping at her side. A fatal blow if the swords had been sharp.

I know the chapters are very action packed yet, but coming soon, Murtagh the Magnificent, who will be sure to dazzle everyone with his melancholy, depressive attitude. I think the heroine of this story can do something about that though through the use of her womanly wiles. Right, I'm going to bed before I start embarrassing myself.

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Review please.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters, they belong to Christopher Paolini. I can only make a claim to those parts of the plot which are from my imagination and the characters that haven't been mentioned in previous books. Obviously, it would be great if I did, but I don't.

**A.N.** Hopefully this chapter will be a little more exciting. But if not it doesn't matter, you are getting a double update after all.

Normally I won't answer reviews here but this one didn't have an account I could reply through.

_**Wildstar of Windclan:**_ Thanks for the review. I've got to say go for the account. Even if you don't post any stories, it's a great way to keep track of the ones you've read, you can save stories you like into a list so you can access them without having to search the data base for keywords or worse yet, your room for that elusive bit of paper. Give writing your own story a go as well, the worst that can happen is somebody sends you a flame in a review telling you that it sucks. When that happens all you have to do is remember that it can't have been that bad if the kept reading to end and they _did_ take the time to review for you.

**Flamers are welcome to review this story.** It is only your own time you're wasting since, I'll admit, some of them do make me laugh. I had one a few years ago, total chewing out about my grammar. Funny because I've been told before I should join the 'Grammar Police' and also because the review had been written like a text message. Texting usually appears devoid of the grammatical rules I know and love and the emoticons reign supreme. All I ask is that you have the decency to sign in so I can then report any abuse at my convenience.

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**Chapter 5**

The trio lunched at Fasaloft, a bustling lakeside village. It was a charming place set on a rise overlooking the lake. As they ate in the hostel's common room, Eragon listened intently to the gossip and was relieved to hear no rumours of him and Saphira. They also took a few hours to purchase a sword for Bree, it was not of the best quality but it would do if they found themselves in a position where it would be needed. The local stables had proved disappointing; there was a choice between a heavily pregnant mare and a donkey that looked as though he had seen better days, quite a few judging by the mass of silver around his face. Bree would have loved to take him along with them but was dissuaded by Eragon mentioning that it would never keep up the horses and was unlikely to let her ride it. Still, she lingered a moment by his stall before following the men outside. Brom said they would have to settle with the two horses they had until they reached Dras-Leona, the city, he said, had always boasted excellent stables.

The trail, now a road, had grown steadily worse over the past two days. Wagon wheels and iron-shod hooves had conspired to tear up the ground, making many sections impassable. An increase in travellers forced Saphira to hide during the day and then catch up with them at night. For days they continued south along Leona Lake's vast shore. Eragon began to wonder if they would ever get around it, so he was heartened when they met men who said that Dras-Leona was an easy day's ride ahead of them.

After setting up camp, the companions settled into their new nightly routine. Eragon would still spar with Brom and Bree, Brom occasionally stepping back, but now they learnt about magic. Brom had been true to his word and the morning following their discussion on 'wizard's duels' he had handed Bree a stone telling her the words of power _stenr reisa_ and instructing her to concentrate on making the stone rise and hover above her palm. The stone had remained motionless in her palm and Bree had quickly become frustrated, sweat beading on her forehead before she exclaimed that it was impossible, she wasn't able to use magic. "I will say when it's impossible, now, concentrate. Try again," commanded Brom, from his position in front of her.

Bree closed her eyes and took deep calming breaths. Shutting out all the sounds of the world, the movement of Snowfire beneath her and the touch of the breeze on her skin, Bree cleared her mind. There was something she should be looking for, she knew. Eragon had felt something in his own mind, but he was a Rider and she wasn't. Brom had explained the difference to her between the various groups of magic users and Bree knee that if she could do magic she would likely fall into the category of a witch or wizard. They were the most common but least powerful, relying on their own innate power rather than potions and spirits. _There!_ She could feel it. Through her memories and senses there was something that didn't fit. No, that wasn't the right way to explain it. There was something there yes, but there was also nothing; a wall separating her from the rest of her mind. Perhaps this was the wall the others encountered when they tried to read her thoughts, but again, no. Saphira had clearly stated one night during a discussion on her lack of thoughts, that that was what she saw, a lack of thoughts; no wall or physical blocks of any kind. Sometimes she or Brom could pick up on her emotions but it was as though she didn't think at all. Saphira had once joked that she'd met trees with more brain presence.

She was decided, that wall was coming down. Now how did one remove a metaphorical wall? She tried to feel along its edges but it was as though they melted, blending seamlessly with the rest of her consciousness. _Direct approach then._ She imagined throwing herself bodily at the wall, peppering its surface with the bullets of a machine gun, exploding a massive pile of dynamite it base. She was growing frustrated again, resorting to mentally yelling obscenities at the thing. _What do you want me to do? Ask nicely? Fine! Will you _please_ open up or disappear or something? I'd really like to get through._ To her surprise the structure began to ripple, distorting the space around it before fading into obscurity.

A flush of warmth and light flooded through her body, sending shivers from the top of her head to the tips of her fingers and toes. Bree gasped and opened her eyes, her lungs filling with air and light. She saw Brom nod his head. "Try again," he directed.

"St-stenr reisa," she gasped. The stone fluttered on her palm, rising and falling a few centimetres. She could feel the same sensation inside her, a fluttering sensation within her mind and chest, like a million butterflies. It was disconcerting and wonderful at the same time. She could feel a power she had never felt before coursing through her skin but she could also feel it pulling at her, drawing her strength. She felt the power slip, withdrawing behind the barrier again. The stone dropped to her palm and remained still, Bree's breathing returning to normal.

"Not bad for your first time," Brom praised her.

"I did it? I actually did magic?" Brom nodded his head.

Eragon nodded too. "I felt it as well. Does that always happen, can you always tell when someone is using magic?"

"If you are paying attention to your surroundings and know what it is you are experiencing, yes." Brom answered. "It is the same feeling when someone enters your mind. If you can perform magic you can always sense its presence as you have already experienced the feel of the magic before."

Bree was still looking at the stone in her palm, fingering it gently. "Do you think I might be able to do that, read minds I mean?" she looked up to Brom.

He shook his head. "I do not know for sure but it is likely you will be able to, many magic handlers can. It's a matter of practice."

"Can you read mine? I felt a wall and got it to drop. Could that have been what was stopping you? I don't want to make myself vulnerable by taking it down every time I want to do magic." She was worried now that maybe she had caused irreversible damage and had opened her mind to any enemy they might encounter.

"If you would like to try lowering the wall again, Saphira or I can give it a try," Brom said as he reined Snowfire to a halt.

Bree thought about that, did she really want them in head, even to prove she whether she was exposed or not. She nodded, "alright, but don't go prodding at anything you shouldn't."

Brom instructed her to close her eyes and concentrate on lowering the defence in her mind. It was surprisingly easy to find the wall again, something she had never before noticed was now blindingly obvious. A simple please later and the wall began to dissolve, the fluttering spreading through her veins, radiating across her skin. She didn't feel anything that might be another presence in her thoughts, opening her eyes her observation was confirmed when Brom and Saphira, speaking through Eragon, declared that her mind was still as impenetrable as before.

That had been nearly three days ago. Bree had joined Eragon in practicing and learning the rules of magic as well as learning new words of power from Brom as they rode during the day, returning to sparring at night as they camped. Both the youngsters' stamina had increased considerably from the day they had first met. The hours of practice now meant that Bree was able to aim her magic, rather than focusing on a sole pebble resting on her palm, she could now pick a stone on the road and make it rise and float to her hand as they rode. But she still felt they were not ready to face the Ra'zac, dreading every hour that brought them closer to the creatures' lair. She had put off talking to Brom, hoping it would prove unnecessary, but she couldn't any longer. She needed to know what to do, go to Dras-Leona or leave?

Eragon rose early the following morning. His fingers twitched in anticipation at the thought of finally finding the Ra'zac. Bree encouraged him to take a short flight with Saphira while she and Brom saddled the horses. "You won't get the chance for a few days," she told him. The fifteen year old didn't need much persuading to skive off work for a little fun and freedom. Once they had taken off she had turned to Brom who was eying her suspiciously. She sighed sitting on the ground and resting her head on her knees. "Must we really go to Dras-Leona?" she asked softly. Brom paused in attaching a bag to Cadoc's saddle, coming to sit next to her.

"Something happens." It was more of a statement than a question. Bree nodded. "Would you like to tell me?"

"I'd love to be able to share some of this," she gestured to her forehead, "with someone, but -" Bree was apprehensive. "Brom?" she asked. "If someone knew how you would die, would you want to be told?" she gazed towards the distant peaks, just visible through the haze of the early morning sun.

"That is why you sent Eragon away; you don't want him to know I die?" She nodded putting her head back onto her knees so she wouldn't have to see his face. She felt a hand rest against her shoulder and heard Brom sigh. "I do not want to know." Bree raised her head to make some type of protest but he held up a hand to forestall her. "I have lived a long life, longer at times then I would have liked. I believe in fate, Bree. I have experienced the worst pains and the greatest joys possible to any man. The only thing I will regret is leaving behind a family I've only just come to know. Eragon is my son, but I also consider you and Saphira true friends and as close to family as a man like myself can get. No, Bree, I'd rather not know what awaits me." Bree nodded, getting to feet and following Brom back to the horses. By the time Eragon and Saphira had returned, the camp had been cleared and the horses were saddled and ready to go.

_The three of you must be careful,_ Saphira said through Eragon. _The Ra'zac could have spies watching for travellers that fit your description._

_We'll do our best to remain inconspicuous, _Eragon assured her.

"Hopefully we'll be overlooked, they won't be expecting to me at least." Bree had changed into an outfit they had purchased in Fasaloft so as not to stand out amongst the common travellers they would be disguised as.

She lowered her head until her eyes met Eragon's, speaking only to him. _Perhaps, but realise that I won't be able to protect you as I did with Urgals. I will be too far away to come to your aid, nor would I survive long in the narrow streets your kind favour. Follow Brom's lead in this hunt; he is sensible._

_I know, _he said somberly.

_Will you go with Brom to the Varden? Once the Ra'zac are killed, he will to take you to them. And since Galbatorix will be enraged by the Ra'zac's death, that may be the safest thing for us to do._

Eragon rubbed his arms. _I don't want to fight the Empire all the time like the Varden do. Life is more than constant war. There'll be time to consider it once the Ra'zac are gone._

_Don't be too sure, _she warned, then went to hide herself until night.

The road was clogged with farmers taking their goods to market in Dras-Leona. Brom and Eragon were forced to slow the horses and wait for wagons that blocked the way.

Although they saw smoke in the distance before noon, it was another league before the city was clearly visible. Unlike Teirm, a planned city, Dras-Leona was a tangled mess that sprawled next to Leona Lake. Ramshackle buildings sat on crooked streets, and the heart of the city was surrounded by a dirty, pale yellow wall of daubed mud.

Several miles east, a mountain of bare rock speared the sky with spires and columns. Near-vertical sides rose out of the ground like a jagged piece of the earth's bone.

Brom pointed. "_That_ is Helgrind. It's the reason Dras-Leona was originally built. People are fascinated by it, even though it's an unhealthy and malevolent thing. Bree thought it looked rather pretty lit up the sun with soft clouds scudding about its peak, like a castle in sky. It was unfortunate that it housed those _creatures_. Brom gestured at the buildings inside the city's wall. "We should go to the centre of the city first."

As they crept along the road to Dras-Leona, they saw that the highest building within the city was a cathedral that loomed behind the walls. It was strikingly similar to Helgrind, especially when its arches and flanged spires caught the light. "Who do they worship?" asked Eragon.

Brom and Bree both grimaced. "The mountain," answered Bree. "It's a horrible religion."

"Their prayers go to Helgrind" expanded Brom. "It's a cruel religion they practice. They drink human blood and make flesh offerings. Their priests often lack body parts because they believe that the more bone and sinew you give up, the less you're attached to the mortal world. They spend much of their time arguing about which of Helgrind's three peaks is the highest and most important and whether the fourth – and lowest – should be included in their worship."

"That's horrible," said Eragon, shuddering.

"Yes," said Brom grimly, "but don't say that to a believer. You'll quickly loose a hand in 'penance.'"

"You should meet some of the religious leaders and fanatics from my world. They would scare the pants of the two of you. They certainly creep me out sometimes." Bree had turned her head away from the temple and was searching the crowds surreptitiously scanning the crowds for anyone that might be watching them.

At Dras-Leona's enormous gates, they led the horses through the crush of people, Bree holding the other side of Cadoc's bridle so she wouldn't get separated. Ten soldiers were stationed on either side of the gates, casually scanning the crowd. The companions passed into the city without incident.

The houses inside the city wall were tall and thin to compensate for the lack of space. Those next to the wall were braced against it. Most of the houses hung over the narrow, winding streets, covering the sky so that it was hard to tell if it was night or day. Nearly all the buildings were constructed of the same rough brown wood, which darkened the city even more. The air reeked like a sewer; the streets were filthy. Bree had a hand held to nose, "And I thought the two of you could smell bad." She glared at a suspicious looking puddle of muck that she needed to jump over in order to avoid soaking her boots.

A ragged group of children ran between the houses, fighting over scraps of bread. Deformed beggars crouched next to the entrance gates, pleading for money. Their cries for help were like a chorus of the damned. "It gets better farther in," Brom promised the two appalled looking teenagers. "Right now we need to find an inn and form a strategy. Dras-Leona can be a dangerous place to even the most cautious. I don't want to remain on the streets any longer than necessary."

"Brom, you suck at giving reassurances, you know that, don't you?" Bree had just found herself being leered at and was huddled so close to Cadoc that she kept pushing him of course and into Eragon.

They forged deeper into Dras-Leona, leaving the squalid entrance behind. As they entered wealthier parts of the city, Eragon wondered aloud, "How can these people live in ease when the suffering around them is so obvious?"

"What did you expect Eragon. Say you worked all day for a few coins, would you be prepared to spend it all on someone you had never met? You have your own family to feed and care for, for most people, what's left over doesn't go far." Bree looked around her at the suffering on peoples' faces, wishing she could do more; for them and for Eragon who still looked ill at what he was seeing. The poor boy would have difficulty handling the realities of her world; death and war a constant in the news, over the years she had learnt to filter it out, much like the population here probably did to cope.

They found lodging at the Golden Globe, which was cheap but not decrepit. A narrow bed was crammed against one wall of the room, with a rickety table and a basin alongside it. Eragon took one look at the mattress and said, "I'm sleeping on the floor. There are probably enough bugs in that thing to eat me alive."

Brom gave Eragon a severe look, "I was going to offer the bed to the lady."

Bree snorted. "I'm not a lady Brom and I'm with Eragon on the bed thing, thank you very much." She dropped her pack to the floor.

"Well, I wouldn't want to deprive them of a meal," said Brom, dropping his bags on the mattress. Eragon set his own on the floor and pulled off his bow.

"What now?" he asked.

"We find food and beer. After that, sleep. Tomorrow we can start looking for the Ra'zac." Before they left the room Brom warned, no matter what happens, make sure that your tongues don't loosen. We'll have to leave immediately if we're given away."

The inn's food was barely adequate, Bree and Eragon suggesting they might catch some rabbits tomorrow and cook their own dinner, but the beer was excellent. By the time they had stumbled back to the room, Bree keeping the two intoxicated men heading in the right direction, Eragon found his head was buzzing pleasantly. He unrolled his blankets on the floor and slid under them as Brom tumbled onto the bed, Bree watching with her hands on her hips until they had settled before shaking her head and unrolling her own blankets.

Just before Eragon fell asleep, he contacted Saphira: _We're going to be here for a few days, but this shouldn't take as long as it did at Teirm. When we discover where the Ra'zac are, you might be able to help us get them. I'll talk to you in the morning. Right now I'm not thinking too clearly._

_You've been drinking,_ came the accusing thought. Eragon considered it for a moment and had to agree that she was absolutely right. Her disapproval was clear, but all she said was, _I won't envy you in the morning._

_No,_ groaned Eragon, _but Brom will. He drank twice as much as I did. We should have listened when Bree said to slow down._ He groaned and closed his eyes as Saphira's parting comment passed through his mind.

_At least one of you has a functioning brain._

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What do you think? Let me know.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters, they belong to Christopher Paolini. I can only make a claim to those parts of the plot which are from my imagination and the characters that haven't been mentioned in previous books. Obviously, it would be great if I did, but I don't.

**A.N.** I hadn't thought I would be able to keep up the pace with posting chapters for this long but I'm really into. Those of you who have read my Harry Potter fanfics know how I always have to go back and change something, I'm not going to promise that it won't happen here because it probably will at some point since I'm a rewriter, but I haven't felt the need at all. And this is chapter six.

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**Chapter 6**

Eragon woke to the sound of someone humming happily. Groaning he rolled onto his side to see Bree was dressed and ready for the day, running a brush through her long brown curls.

_What was I thinking?_ wondered Eragon. His head was pounding and his tongue felt thick and fuzzy. As a rat skittered under the floor, Eragon winced at the noise.

_How are we feeling?_ asked Saphira smugly.

Eragon ignored her as he struggled into sitting position.

A moment later, Brom rolled out of bed with a grumble. "And how are my boys this morning?" asked a smirking Bree. Brom muttered something which made her smirk widen into a grin. He doused his head in cold water from the basin, then left the room. Eragon followed him into the hallway with Bree already skipping down the stairs ahead of him. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"To recover."

"I'll come." At the bar, Eragon discovered that Brom's method of recovery involved imbibing copious amounts of hot tea and ice water and washing it all down with brandy. Bree just grinned through a breakfast of fried eggs and what looked like strips of venison. When they returned to the room, Eragon and Brom were able to function somewhat better, but they both glared at Bree when she started humming again, shrugging her shoulders she stopped and sat on the floor with back resting against the door. After a moment, Eragon joined her. "Why are you so cheerful this morning?" He leant back, resting his head against the wall.

"Just the simple joy of being in a position to gloat and say 'I told you so.'" The smirk was back.

Brom belted on his sword and smoothed the wrinkles out of his robe. "The first thing we need to do is find a stable that can sell us another horse, then what we need to do is ask some discreet questions. I want to find out where the Seithr oil was delivered in Dras-Leona and where it was taken from there. Most likely, soldiers or workmen were involved in transporting it. We have to find those men and get one to talk."

"And that is why you are so lucky to me around." Bree stood up a moved to collect her cloak. "I've already spoken to the barman downstairs, you were still out of it and I wasn't going to hang around and wait for you. There is a stable two streets over from here that sells good steeds at a fair price; I thought we might try there first."

Brom looked concerned. "You didn't leave the building or talk to anyone else did you. We can't have the wrong people hear we're after the oil." Bree put her hands on her hips, adopting an offended expression.

"Of course not, I only spoke to the barman and only about the horses. I'm not an idiot. And I already knew were they sent the oil, anyway. It comes of a boat, is stored somewhere, moved to the palace and then it goes straight to Helgrind. Two slaves take it there with enough supplies for a month every full moon." She looked at Eragon then back to Brom. "They don't come back Brom, ever. Once someone tried to follow them, he disappeared too."

"Well then, I think we have found where the Ra'zac live, but I would still like to know exactly where the oil is going once it leaves the ship. It will help if we ever try to disrupt their trade."

They left the Golden Globe and headed down the congested streets in search of the stable, finding it tucked between a baker's shop and another inn. The building appeared relatively clean and they could see a small paddock through the large back doors. A middle-aged man exited one of the stalls that lined the far wall wiping a sweating brow on the back of hand and propping a shovel against the door.

"How can I be helping you?" he asked in a thick accent Bree and Eragon couldn't place.

Brom addressed him. "We require a horse. It needs to be fast and able to cover long distances each day. We were informed you could be of assistance in this matter."

"Well I don't have many at the moment, the army's just been through you see, and it takes a while to build up your stock again. I should have something to suit you though. Who will be ridding the horse?" he looked between them.

"I will." Bree stepped forward. He looked her up and down, making an assessment in his head.

"Right-o. My name's Maslow by the way. If you'll follow me I'll introduce you to some of the mares, a think the stallions we have at the moment would be a little too spirited for you to handle. Do you ride often?" The questions continued as Maslow collected a lead rope, then he led them to a stall almost halfway down the aisle. Attaching the rope to the horse's bridle he led it out into the walkway. About the same height as Cadoc, and still a head shorter than Snowfire, the mare was a beautiful palomino with a golden coat and a mane so blonde it was nearly white. Bree took a step forward, offering her hand for the animal to sniff. "I think she might suit you best miss," Maslow stated as he tied the mare off to a metal ring embedded in the wall. Brom carefully lifted each hoof, inspecting the iron shoes, walking slowly around the horse and running his hands along her sides, checking her teeth and inside her mouth as well. "She would make a lovely little town pony for you miss, pretty as picture, but she also has the build and the stamina to make a good travelling horse, loves to run."

"Is she quiet?" Brom inquired, "We can't have her spooking."

Maslow nodded, "I would not have offered her if I didn't think the young lady could handle her, she is quiet and easy to ride, my youngest have been in charge of exercising her and has fared well."

"Does she have a name?" Bree giggled, the horse was snuffling at her neck and nosing her pockets looking for treats.

"I do not encourage my children or the workers to name the animals that come through here; it turns them into pets and makes it harder to see them go with another person." He noticed the horse's snuffling and warned, "She is always looking for food this one. I wouldn't trust her alone if she were in reach of anything she could eat. Isn't that right you big glut?" he patted her on the flank affectionately.

"She is very fine." Said Brom, "but I would also like to have a look at some of the other horses if that would be possible."

"Of course, of course," he gestured for Brom to follow him and directed them through a series of stalls spread throughout the stable, as well as indicating a little roan mare sharing the paddock outside with a flock of easily startled chickens. Bree felt that none could compare to the first horse they had been shown and Brom grudging conceded asking Maslow how much for the horse and a decent saddle.

The two men haggled on the price for several minutes before Maslow left, returning shortly with a saddle of dark brown leather and two large saddle bags slung over the top. They paid him with some of the gold pieces Bree had found in her pack on that first day and Maslow helped Brom to saddle the horse. As Maslow had said, she was a well behaved creature, standing patiently as they tightened buckles and straps and made the saddle ready for Bree.

It took only a few minutes to get their newest companion settle into a stall beside Cadoc and Snowfire in the Golden Globe's private stables, before they were off again pushing their way through the crowded streets. They searched for warehouses where the Seithr oil might have been delivered. Near the centre of Dras-Leona, the streets began to slant upward toward a palace of polished granite. It was built on a rise so that it towered above every building except the cathedral.

The courtyard was a mosaic of mother-of-pearl, and parts of the walls were inlaid with gold. Black statues stood in alcoves, with wicks of incense smoking in their cold hands. Soldiers stationed every four yards watched passersby keenly.

"Who lives there?" asked Eragon in awe.

"Marcus Tábor, ruler of this city. He answers only to the king and his own conscience, which hasn't been very active recently," said Brom. They walked around the palace looking at the gated, ornate houses that surrounded it.

"Gaudy, isn't it?" remarked Bree as they passed another courtyard inlaid with favoured mother-of-pearl.

By midday they had learned nothing useful, so they stopped for lunch. "This is city is too vast for us to comb it together," said Brom. "The two of you search together. Meet me at the Golden Globe by dusk." He glowered at Eragon from under his bushy eyebrows. "I'm trusting you not to do anything stupid. I believe Bree understands the consequences if we are exposed, I hope you do to." Eragon nodded.

"We'll be careful," promised Eragon. Brom handed him some coins, then strode away in the opposite direction.

Throughout the rest of the day, Eragon talked to with shopkeepers and workers, trying to be as pleasant as he could, pretending to be waiting for Bree who acted as though she were browsing through their wares. His questions led them from one end of the city to the other and back again. No one seemed to know about the oil. Wherever they went, the cathedral stared down at them. It was impossible to escape its tall spires.

At last they found a man who had helped ship the Seithr oil and remembered to which warehouse it had been taken. Eragon excitedly dragged Bree along to look at the building, then they returned to the Golden Globe. It was over an hour before Brom came back, slumped with fatigue. "Did you find anything?" asked Eragon, as Bree waved her hand at the barman, gesturing for their drinks.

Brom brushed back his white hair. "I heard a great deal of interesting things today, not the least of which is that Galbatorix will visit Dras-Leona within the week."

"What?" exclaimed Eragon.

Brom slouched against the wall, the lines of his forehead deepening. "It seems that Tábor has taken a few too many liberties with his power, so Galbatorix has decided to come teach him a lesson in humility. It is the first time the king has left Urủ'baen in over ten years."

Bree shook her head, "it's more likely he'll send someone else to handle it for him." She looked pointedly at Brom; Eragon was happily distracted paying a busty barmaid for their drinks.

"Do you think he knows of us?" asked Eragon, re-joining the conversation.

"Of course he _knows_ of us, but I'm sure he hasn't been told our location. I agree with Bree that he would likely send a minion to deal with Tábor. If he knew we were here, we would already be in the Ra'zac's grasp. However this means that whatever we're going to do about the Ra'zac must be accomplished before Galbatorix arrives. We don't want to be anywhere within twenty leagues of him. The one thing in our favour is that the Ra'zac are sure to be here, preparing for his visit."

"I want to get the Ra'zac," said Eragon, his fists tightening, but not if it means fighting the king. He could probably tear me to pieces."

That seemed to amuse Brom. "Very good: caution. And you're right; you wouldn't stand a chance against Galbatorix."

Bree slammed her mug down on the table, leaning in to his at the two, "you could both be a little more cautious, if you ask me." Her voice changed to one of pleading. "Can we please leave _now_? We know where the oil has been going. Why must we keep hunting the Ra'zac? I know they killed your uncle but they've killed others as well. Do you really want your name added to that list?" she whispered, aware of the other patrons in the room.

"If I find them I have to try, I owe it to Garrow."

"No one will think less of you for walking away, it won't end well Eragon. We might be -"

"Bree," Brom warned, cutting her off and looking pointedly to the surrounding tables.

Bree nodded, "I'm sorry, it just this city. That horrific church has been visible all day. It was hard to ignore it, knowing what happens there."

"What happens?" Bree shook her head and mouthed 'later.'

"Enough, enough let's continue this upstairs." Once the door had been closed behind them, Brom said, "Now tell me what you learned today. It might confirm what I heard."

Eragon shrugged. "It was mostly drivel, but we did talk with a man who knew where the oil was taken. It's just an old warehouse. Other than that, we didn't hear anything useful."

"My day was a little more fruitful than yours. I heard the same thing you did, so I went to the warehouse and talked with the workers. It didn't take much cajoling before they revealed that the cases of Seithr oil are always sent from the warehouse to the palace."

"Which we already knew," said Bree.

"And that's when you came back here," finished Eragon.

"No, it's not! Don't interrupt. After that, I went to the palace and got myself invited into the servants' quarters as a bard. For several hours I had wandered about, amusing the maids and others with songs and poems – and asking questions all the while." Brom slowly filled his pipe with tobacco and Bree got up to open the small window of their room, she hated the smell of the pipe smoke. "It's really amazing all the things servants find out. Did you know that one of the earls has _three_ mistresses, and they all live in the same wing of the palace?" He shook his head and lit the pipe. "Aside from the fascinating tidbits, I was told, quite by accident, where the oil is taken from the palace."

"Again, Brom, we already know this."

"Who is the storyteller here? Now hush and let me finish," Brom said impatiently. He puffed on his pipe and blew a smoke ring. "Every full moon two slaves are sent to the base of Helgrind with a month's worth of provisions. Whenever the Seithr oil arrives in Dras-Leona, they send it along with the provisions. The slaves are never seen again and the one boy who followed them disappeared too."

"I thought the Rider's abolished the slave trade," said Eragon.

"Unfortunately it has flourished under the king's reign."

"So the Ra'zac are in Helgrind," said Eragon, thinking of the rock mountain.

"There or somewhere nearby."

"No, they are definitely there," stated Bree.

"If they _are_ in Helgrind," continued Eragon, "they'll be either at the bottom – and protected by a thick stone wall – or higher up where only their flying mounts, or Saphira can reach. Top or bottom, their shelter will no doubt be disguised." He thought for a moment. "If Saphira and I go flying around Helgrind, the Ra'zac are sure to see us – not mention all of Dras-Leona."

"It is a problem," agreed Brom.

Eragon frowned. "What if we took the place of the two slaves? The full moon isn't that far off. It would give us a perfect opportunity to get close to the Ra'zac."

Brom tugged his beard thoughtfully. "That's chancy at best. If the slaves are killed from a distance, we'll be in trouble. We can't harm the Ra'zac if they aren't in sight."

"We don't know if the slaves are killed at all," Eragon pointed out.

Bree was incredulous. "Of course they aren't killed, they're just having an all-expenses paid vacation," she snapped sarcastically.

"I'm sure they are, Eragon," said Brom, his face grave. Then his eyes sparkled, and he blew another smoke ring. "Still, it's an intriguing idea. If it were done with Saphira hidden nearby and a…" His voice trailed off. "It might work, but we'll have to move quickly. With the king coming, there isn't much time."

"Should we go to Helgrind to look around? It would be good to see the land in daylight so we won't be surprised by any ambushes," said Eragon.

"I can't believe you're encouraging this Brom!" she stood and stormed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Eragon asked, making to get to his feet.

"To declare our presence in the middle of the town square!" she wrenched the door open, slipped out and slammed it closed behind her.

"Let her go," Brom suggested as Eragon got to his feet to go after her.

"What's her problem today?" he asked the old man.

Brom sighed and rubbed his forehead. "She is just stressed. Remember she knows what is going to happen. It can't be easy for her, seeing us continue the hunt after everything she has done to get us to stop."

"Then why doesn't she just tell us exactly what's bothering her, we could avoid it and be done with it?" he asked.

"It is not that simple. She has to think whether telling us something would make the situation better or worse. I believe she keeps things back just in case, I'm sure you've noticed she is reluctant to tell us things that will happened and when she does it is after a moment of thought. She also has to consider whether we would _want_ to know. I've already asked her not to tell me certain things."

"What things?"

"When I die." He held up a hand to forestall Eragon's next comment. "I have lived my life thus far without knowing and I don't care to know now."

"But she does? She knows and isn't going to do anything about it?" Eragon was angry.

Brom stood from his seat on the bed and came to stand in front of Eragon. "I know my time is soon Eragon, I am an old man and have been for many years now. When my time comes I will accept it and I know you'll be able to carry on and live your life without me. Both of you." Eragon shook his head. "I want you to promise you'll take care of her, stand by her. This world is still very strange to her and if Galbatorix ever found out the things she knows we will all of us be in trouble like we've never known."

"But she's just going to let you…" his voice trailed off, he couldn't say the word they were both thinking.

"I have asked her not to tell me, but it isn't stopping her from trying to interfere. She doesn't want to push too hard and have everything turn out worse, but she has been directing us or trying to direct us away from the dangers. I don't know how long she has been doing this for, or whether we already owe her our lives, but since we reached the city she has been warning us off the Ra'zac's trail. I have not said anything to either of you as I believe they will find and attack us sooner or later, and if it happens I want us to be the ones attacking them, not being caught surprised in an ambush."

Eragon nodded his head slowly, "I think I understand."

Brom patted him on the back, pushing him towards the door. "Good, now go find her, she knows not to stray too far from the inn. We will need all the rest we can get."

Eragon found her in the stables, talking softly to her new horse. He couldn't hear what she was whispering as she stroked the animal's nose but it sounded as though it were reassurances, whether for the horse or herself, he did not know.

"Bree?" he called softly, pulling opening the door to the stall. "Are you alright?" he stepped up next to her, calming the wary horse with a brief thought.

"I named her Maybell."

"It's very pretty; like a flower."

"It's the name of a character in one of my favourite shows; it had lots of singing and pirates." She continued to stroke Maybell's face and neck. "I'm sorry for snapping, Eragon. Sometimes it's hard knowing what I do and having no-one to share it with."

"I'm always here to listen if you want to talk."

"Thanks, Eragon," She leant over and gave him a brief hug. "But I'm not going to add to your burdens, you have enough of your own without sharing mine."

"The offer still stands. Come on, Brom says we need our rest." Bree agreed and followed him back inside and upstairs to their room.

Brom was waiting up for them, saying they needed to finish their conversation from earlier. "I know it upsets you that we're are going through with this Bree, but as I said to Eragon after you left, they will continue to hunt us and I would prefer any encounter to be on our terms." Bree nodded, reminding them that it was there choice; she had already made her feelings and opinion on the subject known. "Tomorrow I'll return to the palace and figure out how we can replace the slaves. I have to be careful not to arouse suspicion, though – I could easily be revealed by spies and courtiers who know about the Ra'zac."

"I can't believe it; we actually found them," said Eragon quietly. An image of his dead uncle and burned far flashed through his mind. His jaw tightened.

"The toughest part is yet to come, but yes, we've done well," said Brom. "If fortune smiles on us, you may soon have your revenge and the Varden will be rid of a dangerous enemy. What comes after that will be up to you."

Eragon opened his mind and jubilantly told Saphira, _We found the Ra'zac's lair!_

_Where?_ He quickly explained what they had discovered. _Helgrind,_ she mused._ A fitting place for them._

Eragon agreed. _When we're done here, maybe we could visit Carvahall._

_What is it you want?_ She asked, suddenly sour. _To go back to your previous life? You know that won't happen, so stop mooning after it! At a certain point you have to decide what to commit to. Will you hide for the rest of your life, or will you help the Varden? Those are the only options left to you, unless you join forces with Galbatorix, which I do not and never will accept._

Softly he said,_ If I must choose, I cast my fate with the Varden, as you well know._

_Yes, but sometimes you have to hear yourself say it._ She left him to ponder her words. Sighing, Eragon joined the others in preparing for sleep.

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**A.N.** Well I've just noticed it 5.27am here in Australia. Lucky it's a Sunday today and I'm a teenager. People aren't too bothered then, if you sleep until the afternoon. You guys get another chapter though, don't you. Goodnight or good morning to everyone, pick which is relevant to you.

I'm not really happy with this ending, but it will help with coming chapters. I needed to explain a few things here first.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters, they belong to Christopher Paolini.

**A.N.** That last chapter was certainly rather long wasn't it? If anyone's interested I've stretched four of the original chapters into six of my own, I'm quite pleased with myself actually.

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Chapter 7

Eragon was alone in the room when he woke. Assuming the other two were downstairs, Eragon washed his face put away his bedding. Just as he finished pulling on his boots, Bree came through the door carrying a bowl of mush, which she handed to Eragon.

"Brom's downstairs grilling the patrons again, said to wait up here" she sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Eragon joined her, wolfing down his breakfast. As the minutes ticked passed, Bree reached down to her pack, resting against the side of the cot, and pulled out one of her books, 'Ella Enchanted.' Eragon leaned back against the wall.

_Saphira? What are you doing?_ He called out to her.

_You sound bored, _came the reply.

_I am. Brom told us to wait up here and Bree's reading._

_It wouldn't do you any harm to get some reading practice in. you've been neglecting that part of your studies, _she admonished.

_I suppose, but I'd rather talk to you for a while._

_Suit yourself, but I'm hunting so I might get a little distracted._

Eragon gave an exasperated sigh. _Fine, _he groaned, _I'll go read._

He looked up to find Bree staring at him, a curious expression on her face. "What did you just do?"

"What?" Now he looked confused.

"I felt something," she gestured to her forehead, "in here, what did you just do."

"Nothing, I was talking to Saphira."

"Do it again," she commanded, closing her eyes. Eragon shrugged his shoulders, opened his mind and called to Saphira again.

_Bree said she might have felt us talking._

_Really? That's interesting. What does Brom think?_

_He doesn't know; he's still downstairs._

"I can definitely feel something," she said, eyes still closed, "hold on a moment." Bree was searching her mind for the origin of the feeling, it was near that little bit of her consciousness that held her magic but it seemed to be coming from the empty space surrounding the bubble of power. _Wait,_ she thought. _Could it really be that simple?_ Cautiously she let her mind slip into the void, reaching for the thread that seemed so much more tangible from here, following it until she felt a change. She dove forward, suddenly hearing three voices in her mind; hers and two that shouldn't have been there. _Wow._ She thought, hearing Eragon's sharp intake of breath.

_Bree? How? I can hear you,_ came a shocked sounding voice, unmistakable as Eragon's.

"I can hear you too!"

_Well done hatchling, now try speaking only with your thoughts._

"Saphira? You sound-"

_With your mind,_ encouraged the dragon.

_Sorry._ She tried again. _You sound older than I was expecting. Is this actually working or am I just going insane and talking to myself?_

_It is most definitely working,_ Eragon replied. He had shuffled forward to where he was sitting directly in front of her, looking into her eyes as they spoke to each other.

_Hey, can you see in my mind, I keep getting flashes of the room from your perspective; does my hair really look that?_ She finished off with trying to rearrange her hair. _Can you look to the left a little bit? Thanks._ She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear to Eragon's exasperated sigh of "girls."

_We heard that,_ rebuked Saphira, _and no Bree, your mind is still perfectly secure, not even a hint that you're there aside from the sound of your voice._

_Can you contact anyone like this?_ she asked, a wicked thought forming.

_As long as you can get past their shields I don't see why not,_ said Eragon.

"How do I-" _Sorry. How do I do that, get past a shield I mean? _There was a moment of silence. _Guys? You still there?_

_Yes, we're here, it's just that you went through our barriers without a problem. We didn't even notice you until we heard your voice._

_Are you sure? I didn't feel anything like a wall, oh wait! _She had just noticed a shimmer near where she had followed the thread from earlier. _There is something here, like a distortion but I can pass through no problem._

_I don't know what that is, maybe when Brom gets back he can have a guess,_ suggested Eragon. The wicked thought from before appeared again, this time as a scary looking grin, she rubbed her hands together. _What?_ _Why are you smiling like that?_ came Eragon's confused sounding voice.

"Follow me." Bree jumped up and dashed out the door into the hallway. Eragon followed her as she tiptoed quietly down the stairs, crouching with her as she peeked around the wall at the bottom of the stairs. Brom could be seen sitting at the bar listening to something the man beside him was saying. Bree focused on that empty space in her head and its dangling thread, _can you still hear me?_

_Yes, we're both still here. _There was a pause. _Um,_ _what are we doing?_

_Can you see Brom, over by the bar?_ Bree had moved into that blank space in her mind and found that she could feel individual little specks of light, focusing on Brom, she felt herself drawn to a specific speck. Nudging it, Bree found that it expanded, and there, before her, was the same shimmer that had encompassed Eragon's thoughts. Slowly, Bree slipped herself forward until she had passed through the distortion and found herself looking at the barman who had, until a moment ago been obscured to her and Eragon by Brom's back.

_Psst!_ She whispered in her thoughts, thrilling when Brom visibly stiffened, Eragon noticing it too. She decided to have some fun; she deserved a little release after the past few days. Drawing on an accent she hissed, _Shh! _with her thoughts, _he'll hear you._ Changing the accent slightly she leant further around the wall focusing on Brom's back; _I'm not the one being so loud._ She protested to herself, arguing back and forth for a minute, making comments on what Brom was doing at the same time. _He's looking this way. This is your fault. No, it's yours. Shh. He'll see you._ Brom had set down his cup and was carefully scanning the room, concern marking his brow. Bree felt a laugh building. A giggle escaped her and Bree and Eragon froze as Brom's eyes slid in their direction and landed on their amused yet startled faces. He had been close enough to their hiding place to hear her make a noise. _O-oh._

Brom stood, pushed his stool back under the bench of the bar and started towards them. _Eragon?_ she called to him.

_Yeah?_

_Run!_ With another giggle, Bree spun and fled back up the stairs, breaking into hysterical laughter as soon as she reached the small room. Eragon was close behind her, shutting the door quickly before collapsing next to her on the cot, laughing himself.

The door flew open, the teens freezing again. Brom seemed unsure of what was happening. Bree reached out with her mind again touching his, _We learnt a new trick_ she thought to him apologetically.

Brom gave a relieved sigh, "I had thought someone had discovered us." He wiped a hand over face, rubbing at his beard. Suddenly he looked up, locking eyes with Bree. "You were in my mind." He stated, shocked, the demanded, "How?"

"I'm sorry for worrying you but I wanted to test it out first. I thought it might be fun. You did have some amusing reactions, though." She and Eragon then went on to explain how she had felt something when he had contacted Saphira.

"This is something I've never heard of before. You say you couldn't get through to her thoughts yourself Eragon?" Brom again confirmed the security of her natural defences when he couldn't get through himself, not even while she had her mind open and was talking with him and Eragon and Saphira. "What surprises me is that none of us noticed when you breached our minds. Any magic user can always tell when someone tries, yet we didn't notice you."

"I didn't even notice there was anything there at first until Eragon said much the same thing you just did. I had a look around my head and all I've been able to find is a distortion in the empty space around my magic."

Brom rubbed his chin for a moment, eventually saying, "Perhaps your defences also work in reverse, dissolving the one around the mind you are invading. I will need to think on this for a little while. We had best get moving." He stopped at a concern raised by Saphira that Bree's probing may have damaged their shields in some way or that communicating with her would at the same time leave them vulnerable to others. After a minute checking each other's defences, Brom claimed all was well and they left the relative safety of the inn for the bustling early morning traffic on the streets and the dangers of the hunt.

"I will be gone until late tonight. Here are some coins for food. Explore the city and enjoy yourselves, but stay unnoticed. Try and be back inside the inn before it becomes dark. These streets are even more dangerous at night." They promised him. "Avoid the palace and don't go anywhere without your bow Eragon, keep it strung." He turned to leave, but paused looking back at Bree. "Keep practicing with speaking with your thoughts, but contain yourself to Eragon, we don't know who might be on these streets or what they're capable of." She nodded and left them to their own devices.

They ambled through the streets, stopping to observe anything that interested them. There were many interesting stores, but none quite as exciting as Angela's herb shop in Teirm. At times, Eragon glared at the dark claustrophobic houses and wished, as Bree did, that they were free of the city. When they became hungry the purchased a loaf of bread and wedge of cheese each, sitting together on the street curb together to eat them. Later, in a far corner of Dras-Leona, they heard an auctioneer rattling off a list of prices. Curious they headed toward the voice and arrived at a wide opening between two buildings. Ten men stood on a waist high platform. Arrayed before them was a richly dressed crowd that was both colourful and boisterous. _Where are the goods for sale? _wondered Eragon, but Bree had already realised what she was seeing and pulled gently on Eragon's arm.

"Let's keep going," she whispered, trying to pull him away.

Just as Eragon had made to follow her, the auctioneer finished his list and motioned for a young man behind the platform to join him, Eragon stopped, horrified. The man had awkwardly climbed up, chains dragging at his hands and feet. "And here we have our first item," proclaimed the auctioneer. "A healthy male from the Hadarac Desert, captured just last month, and in excellent condition. Look at those arms and legs; he's strong as a bull! He'd be perfect as a shield bearer, or if you don't trust him for that, hard labour. But let me tell you, lords and ladies, that would be a waste. He's bright as a nail, if you can get him to talk a civilised tongue."

The crowd laughed and Eragon ground his teeth in fury. His lips started to form a word that would free the slave, and his arm, newly liberated from the splint, rose. The mark on his palm shimmered. "Don't, Eragon. Please, let's just go. There's nothing we can do," Bree said, pulling his arm harder. Eragon was about to release the magic when he realised she was right, _He'd never get away!_ The slave would be caught before he reached the city walls. He would only make the situation worse if he tried to help. He lowered his arm and quietly cursed. _Think! This is how you got into trouble with the Urgals._

He watched helplessly as the slave was sold to a tall, hawk-nosed man. The next slave was a tiny girl, no more than six years old, wrenched from them arms of her crying mother. As the auctioneer started the bidding, Eragon forced himself to walk away; rigid with fury and outrage, he let Bree lead him down the street until they could no longer hear the crowd behind them. It was several blocks before the weeping was inaudible. _I'd like to see a thief try to cut my purse right now, _he thought grimly, almost wishing it would happen. He noticed Bree wiping at her eyes and, removing her hand from his, put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a half hug.

_This is the sort of thing I could stop by fighting the Empire,_ he realised. _With Saphira by my side I could free those slaves. I've been graced with special powers; it would be selfish of me not to use them for the benefit of others. If I don't, I might as well not be a rider at all._

It was a while before they stopped and took stock of their bearings, surprised to find themselves before the cathedral. Its twisted spires were covered with statues and scrollwork. Snarling gargoyles crouched along the eaves. Fantastic beasts writhed on the walls, and heroes and kings marched along their bottom edges, frozen in cold marble. Ribbed arches and tall stained-glass windows lined the cathedral's sides, along with columns of differing sizes. A lonely turret helmed the building like a mast. Bree felt it was all very over-the-top, a mix of styles that seemed to clash in most areas.

Recessed in shadow at the cathedral's front was an iron-bound door inlaid with a row of silver script that Eragon recognized as the ancient language. As best he could tell, it read: _May thee who enter here understand thine impermanence and forget thine attachments to that which is beloved._

The entire building sent shivers down there spines. There was something menacing about it, as if it were a predator crouched in the city, waiting for its next victim. Bree couldn't stop thinking of the many people who had been maimed or killed within its walls. She was so preoccupied trying to dispel the images that she failed to notice Eragon leave her side.

A broad row of steps led to the cathedral's entrance. Eragon solemnly ascended them and stopped before the door. _I wonder if I can go in._ Almost guiltily he pushed on the door. It swung open smoothly, gliding on oiled hinges. He turned to see Bree running up the steps after him and stepped inside holding, the door open for her.

"Eragon, no," she whispered. Eragon wasn't listening. The silence of a forgotten tomb filled the cathedral. The air was chill and dry. Bare walls extended to a vaulted ceiling that was so high Eragon felt no taller than an ant. Stained-glass windows depicting scenes of anger, hate and remorse pierced the walls, while spectral beams of light washed sections of the pews with transparent hues, leaving the rest in shadow. His hands were shaded a deep blue.

Between the windows stood statues with rigid, pale eyes. He returned their stern gazes, then slowly trod up the centre row, afraid to break the quiet. His leather boots padded noiselessly on the polished stone floor.

The altar was a great slab of stone devoid of adornment. A solitary finger of light fell upon it, illuminating motes of golden dust floating in the air. Behind the altar, the pipes of a wind organ pierced the ceiling and opened themselves to the elements. The instrument would play its music only when a gale rocked Dras-Leona.

Out of respect, Eragon knelt before the altar and bowed his head. He did not pray but paid homage to the cathedral itself. The sorrows of the lives it had witnessed, as well as the unpleasantness of the elaborate pageantry that played out between its walls, emanated from the stones. It was a forbidding place, bare and cold. In that chilling touch, though, came a glimpse of eternity and perhaps the powers that lay there.

Bree was feeling panic rise in her chest, she kept close to Eragon shielding her back against nearby walls and pews, shooting furtive glances into the shadows. As Eragon knelt, she rushed forwards catching him but the shoulder, "we need to leave, now!" she hissed, trying to pull him to his feet. As Eragon turned to look at her he froze and his heart jumped, hammering like a drum.

Behind Bree, framed in the light pouring in from the cathedral's entrance, stood the Ra'zac, watching them. Their swords were drawn, keen edges bloody in a crimson light. A sibilant his came from the smaller Ra'zac. Neither of them moved.

Rage welled up in Eragon, fear in Brianna. They had chased the Ra'zac for so many weeks that the pain of their murderous deed had dulled within Eragon. But his vengeance was at hand. His wrath exploded like a volcano, fuelled even more by his pent-up fury at the slaves' plight. A roar broke from his lips, echoing like a thunderstorm as he snatched his bow from his back. Deftly, he fit an arrow to the string and loosed it. Two more followed an instant later.

The Ra'zac leapt away from the arrows with inhuman swiftness. They hissed as they ran up the aisle between the pews, cloaks flapping like raven wings. Eragon reached for another arrow, but caution stayed his hand. _If they knew where to find us, Brom is in danger as well! I must warn him. _Then, to Eragon's horror, a line of soldiers filed into the cathedral, and he glimpsed a field of uniforms jostling outside the doorway.

Eragon gazed hungrily at the charging Ra'zac, then swept around, searching for a means of escape. A vestibule to the left of the altar caught his attention. He grabbed Bree's hand, she was frozen in fear and staring at the rapidly approaching Ra'zac, then he bounded through the archway. Pulling her along behind him, they dashed down a corridor that led to a priory with a belfry. The patter of the Ra'zac's feet behind made them quicken their pace until the hall abruptly ended with a closed door.

Eragon pounded against it, trying to burst it open, but the wood was too strong. The Ra'zac were nearly upon them. Frantic, Bree pushed him out of the way as she sucked in a breath and barked "Jierda!" With a flash, the door splintered into pieces and fell to the floor, the adrenaline coursing through blood prevented Bree from collapsing to her knees at the cost the magic tolled on her body. They jumped into the small room and continued running.

They sped through several chambers, startling a group of priests. Shouts and curses followed them from those they had knocked to ground. The priory bell tolled and alarm. Eragon and Bree dodged through a kitchen, passed a pair of monks, then slipped through a side door. They skidded to a stop in a garden surrounded by a high brick wall devoid of handholds. There were no other exits.

Eragon turned to leave, but there was a low his a low hiss as the Ra'zac shouldered aside the door. Desperate, he followed Bree's lead and rushed at the wall, arms pumping. Magic could not help him here – if he used it to break through the wall, he would be too tired to run.

He jumped. Even with his arms outstretched, only his fingertips cleared the edge of the wall. The rest of his body smashed against the bricks, driving out his breath. Bree had been lucky and managed to grasp the low hanging branch of a tree, using it to pull herself up. Eragon gasped and hung there, struggling not to fall. The Ra'zac prowled into the garden, swinging their heads from side to side like wolfhounds sniffing for prey. Eragon sensed their approach as Bree helped him to scramble onto the top of the wall, their arms and shoulders shrieking in pain at the effort, dropping to the ground on the other side. They stumbled, Eragon regained his balance and, pulling Bree to her feet, darted down an alley just as the Ra'zac leapt over the wall. Galvanised they put on another burst of speed.

They ran for over a mile before they had stop and catch their breath, Bree holding a stitch in her side and wincing around the burning in her throat. Unsure if they had lost the Ra'zac, they found a crowded marketplace and dived under a parked wagon. _How did they find us?_ wondered Eragon, panting. _They shouldn't have known where we were…unless something happened to Brom!_ He reached out with his mind to Saphira and said, _The Ra'zac are here, they've found us. We're all in danger! Check if Brom's alright. If he is, warn him and have him meet us at the inn. And be ready to fly here as fast as you can. We may need your help to escape._

She was silent, then said curtly, _He'll meet you at the inn. Don't stop moving; you're in great danger._

"Brom." Gasped Bree, she had felt him contacting someone.

"He'll meet us at the inn. We need to keep moving." He said, rolling out from under the wagon. They hurried back to Golden Globe, quickly packed their belongings, saddled the horses, then led them to the street. Brom soon arrived, staff in hand, scowling dangerously. He swung onto Snowfire and asked, "What happened?"

"We were in the cathedral when the Ra'zac just appeared behind us," said Eragon, climbing onto Cadoc. "We ran back as fast as possible, but they could be here any second. Saphira will join us once we're out of Dras-Leona."

"It's my fault," came Bree's voice from atop the palomino mare, she had mounted as soon as her legs began to give out on her. "We shouldn't have gone, but I got distracted and by the time I'd noticed he'd moved, Eragon was already walking through the door."

"We have to get outside the city walls before they close the gates, if they haven't already," said Brom. "If they're shut, it'll be nigh impossible for us to leave. Whatever you do, don't get separated from me." They stiffened as ranks of soldiers marched down one end of the street.

Brom cursed lashed Snowfire with his reins, and galloped away. Eragon bent low over Cadoc and followed, putting Bree between himself and Brom. They nearly crashed several times during the wild, hazardous ride, plunging through masses of people that clogged the streets as they neared the city wall. When the gates finally came into view, Eragon pulled on Cadoc's reigns with dismay. The gates were already half closed, and a double line of pikemen blocked their way.

"They'll cut us to pieces!" he exclaimed, as Bree tried to right herself in Maybell's saddle; they had been going too fast.

"We have to try and make it," said Brom, his voice hard. "I'll deal with the men, but you have to keep the gates open for us." Eragon nodded, gritted his teeth, and dug his heels into Cadoc, Bree urging Maybell in a gallop behind him.

They ploughed toward the line of unwavering soldiers, who lowered their pikes towards the horses' chests and braced the weapons against the ground. The horses snorted with fear, but they held their place. Eragon heard the soldiers shout but kept his attention on the gates inching shut.

As they neared the pikes, Brom raised his hand and spoke. The words struck with precision; the soldiers fell to each side as if their legs had been cut from under them. The gap between the gates shrunk by the second. Hoping that the effort would not prove too much for him, Eragon drew on his power and shouted, "Du grind huildr!"

A deep grating sound emanated from the gates as they trembled, then ground to a stop. The crowd and guards fell silent, staring with amazement. With a clatter of the horses' hooves, Brom, Eragon and Bree shot out from behind Dras-Leona's wall. The instant they free, Eragon released the gates. They shuddered, then boomed shut.

Eragon swayed with the expected fatigue but managed to keep riding, catching Bree's concerned gaze on him before she re-focused on the road ahead of them. Brom watched them both with concern, hoping neither would fall from their mounts. Their flight continued through the outskirts of Dras-Leona as alarm trumpets sounded on the city wall. Saphira was waiting for them by the edge of the city, hidden behind some trees. Her eyes burned; her tail whipped back and forth. "Go, ride her," said Brom, taking Cadoc's reigns in his hand. "And this time stay in the air, no matter what happens to us. We'll head south. Fly nearby; I don't care if Saphira's seen." Eragon quickly mounted Saphira. As the ground dwindled away beneath him, he watched Brom and Bree gallop along the road.

_Are you alright?_ asked Saphira.

_Yes,_ said Eragon. _But only because we were very lucky._

A puff of smoke blew from her nostrils. _All the time we've spent searching for the Ra'zac was useless._

_I know,_ he said, letting his head sag against her scales. _If the Ra'zac had been the only enemies back there, I would have stayed and fought, but with all the soldiers on their side, it was hardly a fair match._

_You understand that there will be talk of us now? This was hardly an unobtrusive escape. Evading the Empire will be harder than ever._ There was an edge to her voice that he was unaccustomed to.

_I know._

They flew low and fast over the road. Leona Lake receded behind them; the land became dry and filled with tough, sharp bushes and tall cactuses. Clouds darkened the sky. Lightning flashed in the distance. As the wind began to howl, Saphira glided steeply down to Brom. He stopped the horses, Bree reigning Maybell in beside him with the horse skittering slightly away from the dragon, and asked "what's wrong?"

"The wind's too strong."

"It's not that bad," objected Brom.

"It is up there," said Eragon, pointing at the sky.

Brom swore and handed him Cadoc's reigns. They trotted away with Saphira following on foot, though on the ground she had difficulty keeping up the horses.

The gale grew stronger, flinging dirt through the air and twisting like a dervish. They wrapped scarves around their heads to protect their eyes; Bree also having had to tie her hair back with a piece of ribbon to keep it out of her face. Brom's robe flapped in the wind while his beard whipped about as if it had a life of its own. Though it would make them miserable, Eragon hoped it would rain so their tracks would be obliterated.

Soon darkness forced them to stop. With only the stars to guide them, they left the road and made camp behind two boulders. It was too dangerous to light a fire, so they ate cold food while Saphira sheltered them from the wind.

After the sparse dinner, Eragon asked bluntly, "How did they find us?"

Brom started to light his pipe, but thought better of it and put it away. "One of the palace servants warned me were spies among them. Somehow word of me and my questions must have reached Tábor…and through him, the Ra'zac."

"We can't go back to Dras-Leona, can we?" asked Eragon.

Brom shook his head. "Not for a few years.

"Why would you want to?" asked Bree, handing Eragon his sword and sitting by Brom, with hers by her side.

Eragon held his head between his hands. "Then should we draw the Ra'zac out? If we let Saphira be seen, they'll come running to wherever she is."

"Bringing fifty soldiers with them when they do, I'm sure. We'll be very lucky if they don't attack us tonight. If it weren't for the wind I'd say we should keep going, even in the dark rather than stay in the place for too long." Bree said, tucking her legs beneath her to the warm.

Brom nodded. "At any rate this isn't the time to discuss it. Right now we have concentrate on staying alive. Tonight will be the most dangerous because the Ra'zac will be hunting us in the dark, when they are strongest. We'll have to trade watches until morning."

"Right," said Eragon, standing. Bree felt as though they being watched, her fears confirmed when Eragon hesitated, squinting into the darkness. He stepped towards the edge of their camp.

"What is it?" asked Brom, halting unrolling his blankets to follow Eragon's line of sight, Bree reached for her sword, and whispered Brom's name, in an attempt to get his attention.

Eragon stared into the darkness a moment longer, then turned back to the camp. "I don't know. I thought I saw something. It must have been a bird." Eragon had only just finished speaking when a shadowy figure beat him across the back of his, disappearing once more into the darkness. Saphira roared as Eragon toppled to ground, unconscious. Brom drew his sword, moving to stand over him, motioning Bree to come closer.

She didn't make it to his side however, as something dashed past, wrenching the sword from her grip and pulling her around until she her back was to it, a dagger poised at her throat. "Drop your sword old man," hissed a voice from beside her ear, the grip on her arm tightening when tried to move away from the stench of its breath; like fetid meat.

Brom hesitated, eyes never leaving the creature, then slowly began to lower his sword to the ground. Just before he released the handle, Bree noticed another figure emerging from the shadows behind him, without thinking, Bree shouted "Jierda" flinging her arm out towards the figure. It shrieked, whether in pain or anger she didn't know, Brom taking his chance, swinging his sword around to meet the shadow. Bree's legs were shaking from the effort it had taken to use the spell. Her legs gave out just as the shadow, one of the Ra'zac, dealt a blow to the side of Brom's head with the hilt of its sword.

The Ra'zac that had been holding Bree let her drop to ground where she slumped on her side. Saphira made a move to grab the Ra'zac standing above Bree but was forced to halt when its partner held a knife to Eragon's throat; a dragon won't fight if her Rider is being held.

"What is this," hissed the Ra'zac closest to Bree. "Another little magic user, we were only aware of the old man and the boy, being capable." It hissed again in a mocking laugh. "It didn't do you much good though, did it young one?" All Bree could do was glare at them as they bound her and her companions arms behind them, fighting the darkness that blurred the edges of vision, drifting between sleep and awake; she had been exhausted already and the spell had drained her nearly to the point of blacking out.

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A.N. How was that? It ended up being quite a long chapter too; I think it might be my longest so far. And in the next chapter, Murtagh the Magnificent.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters. Get it? Got it? Good.

**A.N.** A little bit more Bree action in this chapter. I've had some comments about making her more involved and whether she'll change the course of events. Hopefully this will satisfy all of you. Now, no more questioning my greatness. Okay?

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Chapter 8

A dull throbbing roused Eragon. Every time blood pulsed through his head it brought a fresh wave of pain. He cracked his eyes open and winced; tears rushed to his eyes as he looked directly into a bright lantern. He blinked and looked away. When he tried to sit up, he realised that he hands were tied behind his back.

He turned lethargically and saw Brom's arms. Eragon was relieved to see they were bound together. Why was that? He struggled to figure it out until the though suddenly came to him. _They wouldn't tie up a dead man!_ But who were "they" and where was Bree. He swivelled his head further, then stopped as a pair of black boots entered his vision.

Eragon looked up, right into the cowled face of a Ra'zac. Fear jolted through him. He reached for the magic and started to voice a word that would kill the Ra'zac, but then halted, puzzled. He could not remember the word. Frustrated he tried again, only to feel it slip out of his gasp.

Above him the Ra'zac laughed chillingly. "The drug is working, yesss? I think you will not be bothering us again."

There was a rattle off to the left, and Eragon was appalled to see the second Ra'zac fit a muzzle over Saphira's head. Her wings were pinioned to her sides by black chains; there were shackles on her legs. Eragon tried to contact her, but felt nothing.

"She was most co-operative once we threatened to kill you," hissed the Ra'zac. Squatting by the lantern, he rummaged through their bags, examining and discarding various items, pulling out some of Bree's clothing and inspecting a skirt with a lace underlay. "It would seem the little miss is a little lady," it hissed, turning its head to the figure on the ground in the shadows. "Very fine indeed." He fingered the stitching, before moving on to one of Eragon's bags he removed Zar'roc, stroking the red blade with bony, clawed finger, "What a pretty thing for one so…insignificant. Maybe I will keep it." He leaned closer and sneered, "Or maybe, if you behave, our master will let you polish it." His moist breath smelt like raw meat.

"Of course _you'd_ be interested in something shiny." Mocked Bree's voice from the shadow, her voice was quiet and strained but loud enough to be heard over Saphira's low growls.

The Ra'zac that had muzzled Saphira, stalked over to her, dragging her by the collar of her robe into the circle of light cast by the lantern and throwing her to the ground as she tried to kick at its legs. "We will let your remarks slide for now little one," the creature sneered, "the master will teach you manners soon enough." Bree glared at them, desperately trying to locate the thread in her thoughts that was Eragon; the Ra'zac's drug was effective, but wearing off. Her body was fighting it better than her injured companions and she could already make a stone begin to wobble from its place on the ground with her thoughts alone.

The Ra'zac by Eragon continued to torment him, caressing the sword and whispering of the tortures that awaited him at the hands of their master. Then he turned the sword over in his hands and screeched as he saw the symbol on the scabbard. His companion rushed over. They stood over the sword, hissing a clicking. At last they faced Eragon. "You will serve our master very well, yesss."

Eragon forced his thick tongue to form words: "If I do, I will kill you."

They chuckled coldly. "Oh no, we are too valuable. But you…you are _disposable._" A deep snarl came from Saphira; smoke roiled from her nostrils. The Ra'zac did not seem to care. They jerked around, however, at a derisive snort from Bree.

She had managed to get to her knees unnoticed and was smirking at them. "You, valuable?" she harrumphed, "You can't be that important to him if he hasn't told you." There! The thread, she rushed through the distortion, screaming, _Eragon, stall!_ pleased when she saw him twitch as her voice sent another jolt of pain throbbing through his head; she had gotten through.

"He has told us all we need to know," hissed the taller of the two, crouching to bring its face within view of hers.

"Obviously not, listening to the threats you've been making. Eragon dies and so does his dragon; she dies and you two can kiss your lives goodbye, Galbatorix will be so pissed with you."

Their attention was diverted when Brom groaned and rolled onto his side.

"See Eragon, how easily they're distracted, like children surrounded by a room of toys; wondering which to play with." She openly mocked them now. The Ra'zac ignored her; one of them grabbed Brom's shirt and thrust him effortlessly into the air. "It'sss wearing off."

"Give him more."

"Let'sss just kill him," hissed the shorter Ra'zac. "He has caused us much grief."

"I would rather kill the girl; she has caused as much trouble."

"She will be of more use to the king; young mindsss are easily broken."

The taller one ran a finger down his sword. "A good plan. But remember the king's instructions were to keep the _alive._"

"We can sssay he was killed when we captured them; he will be getting the girl anyway, a bonus of which he was not aware."

"And what of thisss one?" the Ra'zac asked, pointing his sword at Eragon. "If he talksss?"

"His companion laughed and drew a wicked looking dagger from the folds of his cloak. "He would not dare."

There was a long silence in which Bree contacted Eragon again, _why aren't you stalling? We need to stall!_ Then, "Agreed," came the voice of the Ra'zac.

Bree sighed, once again gaining their attention. "There you go making judgements again without the facts." Bree shook her head in mock sadness. "How the two of you managed to sneak up on us undetected, I'll never understand. You don't seem that skilled at planning, or subtlety for that matter.

"Be careful what you say, we ssstill change our minds about killing you." They dragged Brom to the centre of the camp and shoved him to his knees. Brom sagged to one side. Eragon and Bree watched with growing fear. _I have to get free! _Bree realised that she was still in Eragon's mind, sensing him wrench at the ropes, but they were two tight and too strong to break.

_Allow me,_ Bree's voice floated through his mind as a Ra'zac looked over.

"None of that now," it said, poking him with a sword. He nosed the air and sniffed; something seemed to trouble him.

_This is it,_ thought Bree. Over the past weeks she had noticed facts were slipping; she couldn't remember the names and dates from the books. It had been so long now since she had last read them, her experiences here melding with and distorting her memories of Eragon's adventures as her own began to alter the path they were on. But she remembered this, just let the Ra'zac try and kill Brom; their drug was nearly completely faded from her system and she was ready.

She concentrated as the other Ra'zac growled, yanking Brom's head back. Releasing her magic with the softly muttered words, "Stenr reisa," she sent a pebble shooting at its head, causing it to shriek and turn towards her as it released its hold on Brom. Its hood had fallen back in the process, revealing a beaked face and beady black eyes. "Whoops," she grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I was aiming for that tree but your head got in the way." She tried to sound nonchalant, but inside she was trembling in fear. The face of the Ra'zac in the light from lantern was like something straight from a horror movie.

"You will regret that," it hissed, snatching the dagger from it cohort and stalking toward her.

Bree realised her predicament, the spell had drained most of what strength she had regained, she was on her knees, hands bound and her sword on the other side of the clearing where it had been thrown to lay by their packs. _Now would be a good time,_ she pleaded nervously to the figure she desperately hoped was lurking in the shadows, bow raised and arrow notched. The Ra'zac raised its dagger, grabbed her by the hair and moved to slit her throat; the dagger staring to slice through her skin. At that very moment she cried out a buzz sounded, followed by the Ra'zac howl, its hands releasing their hold on both Bree and the dagger. An arrow grazing its neck. The Ra'zac nearest Brom dropped to the ground, barely avoiding a second arrow. He scuttled to his wounded companion, and they glared into the darkness, hissing angrily. They made no move to stop Brom as he blearily staggered upright. "Get down!" cried Bree and Eragon together.

Brom wavered, then tottered toward Eragon. As more arrows hissed into the camp from the unseen attackers, the Ra'zac rolled behind some boulders. There was a lull, then arrows came from the opposite direction. Caught by surprise, the Ra'zac reacted slowly. Their cloaks were pierced in several places, and a shattered arrow buried itself in one's arm.

With a wild cry, the smaller Ra'zac fled toward the road, kicking Eragon viciously in the side as he passed. The other hesitated, then pulled its own knife from the folds of its cloak and raced after its fleeing companion. As he left the camp, he hurled the knife at Eragon.

A strange light suddenly burned in Brom's eyes. He threw himself in front of Eragon, his mouth open in a soundless snarl. At the same time, Bree felt her magic pulse inside her as she screamed, watching the knife fly closer to her friends, something inside her snapped. They were both suddenly pulled sideways, Eragon knocking into Brom as a burst of power hauled them across the dirt; the knife sailing over their head, striking a tree with a soft thump as the two landed heavily on the ground. Bree slumped sideways. As her vision began to blur and fade she saw Brom's eyes close and Eragon doubled over, clutching his sides in pain. She heard footsteps approaching from behind, then her eyes closed and she knew no more.

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I was going to keep going but this is a good place to stop. The next chapter will be longer and will _definitely _have Murtagh. He took his time getting to them so, now he'll have to wait.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters.

**A.N.** Don't worry too much if Murtagh's eyes are popping out a little bit, I just squeezed him a little too tightly. If any else wants to hug him, they're going to need to push his eyes back in when they're done.

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Chapter 9

For a long while, Eragon was aware only of the burning in his side. Each breath was painful. It felt as though he had been stabbed. His sense of time was skewed; it was hard to tell if weeks had gone by, or only a few minutes. When consciousness finally came to him, he opened his eyes and peered curiously at a campfire several feet away. His hands were still tied together, but the drug must have worn off because he could think clearly again._ Saphira, are you injured?_

_No but the rest of you are._ She was crouched over Eragon, wings spread protectively on either side, covering Brom who lay next to him in their shadow, Bree a short distance away.

_Saphira, you didn't make that fire, did you? And you couldn't have gotten out of those chains by yourself._

_No._

_I didn't think so._ Eragon struggled to his knees and saw a young man sitting on the far side of the fire.

The stranger, dressed in battered clothes, exuded a calm, assured air. In his hands was a bow, at his side a long hand-and-half sword. A white horn with silver fittings lay in his lap, and the hilt of a dagger protruded from his boot. His serious face and fierce eyes were framed by locks of brown hair. He appeared to be a few years older than Eragon and perhaps an inch or two taller; closer in age to Bree, though a head taller at least. Behind him a grey war-horse was picketed. The stranger watched Saphira warily.

"Who are you?" asked Eragon, taking a shallow breath.

The man's hands tightened on his bow. "Murtagh." His voice was low and controlled, but curiously emotional.

Eragon pulled his hands underneath his legs so they were in front of him. He clenched his teeth as his side flared with pain. "Why did you help us?"

"You aren't the only enemies the Ra'zac have. I was tracking them."

"You know who they are?"

"Yes."

Eragon concentrated on the ropes that bound his wrists and reached for the magic. He hesitated, aware of Murtagh's eyes on him, then decided it didn't matter. "Jierda!" he grunted. The ropes snapped of his wrists. He rubbed his hands to get the blood flowing.

Murtagh sucked in his breath. Eragon braced himself and tried to stand, but his ribs seared with agony. He fell back, gasping between clenched teeth. Murtagh tried to come to his aid, but Saphira stopped him with a growl. "I would have helped you earlier, but your dragon wouldn't let me near you. I had thought the girl was, since it was her I saw use magic, but as soon as I'd gotten the chains off the dragon rushed to stand over you."

"Her name's Saphira," said Eragon tightly. _Now let him by! I can't do this alone. Besides, he saved our lives._ Saphira growled again, but folded her wings and backed away. Murtagh eyed her flatly as he stepped forward.

He grasped Eragon's arm, gently pulling him to his feet. Eragon yelped and would have fallen without support. They went to the fire, Eragon sitting down again while Murtagh went to look Brom over. "How is she?" asked Eragon. Bree was lying on a blanket by the fire; a strip of cloth was wrapped around her throat, blood staining the surface.

"She'll be fine, just a shallow cut. I've put a dressing over it to keep it clean, there wasn't much blood. I think she exhausted herself using that magic. You're lucky, that dagger would have gone straight to his chest. He'll be fine to, I think." He stood and moved to kneel by Bree, checking the makeshift bandage. "He got a nasty blow to the head. We'll just have to wait until they wake up." Tucking the cloth back around her neck, Murtagh stood and moved to sit by Eragon. "Now we'd better see how much damage the Ra'zac did to you." He helped Eragon to remove his shirt, then whistled. "Ouch!"

"Ouch," agreed Eragon weakly, looking down at his left side. A blotchy bruise extended down his side from just under his arm to where his ribs ended. The red, swollen skin was broken in several places. Murtagh put a hand on the bruise and pressed lightly. Eragon yelled, and Saphira growled a warning.

Murtagh glanced at Saphira as he grabbed a blanket. "I think you have some broken ribs. It's hard to tell, but at least two, maybe more. You're lucky you're not coughing up blood." He tore the blanket into strips and bound Eragon's chest.

Eragon slipped the shirt back on. "Yes…I'm lucky." He took a shallow breath, sidled over to Bree, with trembling fingers he undid the bandage and looked at a line running across part of her neck; the wound short, thin and not too deep. As he had learned when Garrow was injured, a wound inflicted by the Ra'zac was slow to heal. He hoped this wouldn't be the same. One of the most important things he had learnt about Bree over the last weeks was that if she was in pain, even from a splinter, you needed to keep out of her way. If the wound didn't heal quickly, she'd be the one taking revenge on the Ra'zac. And they'd go down; just as he did the day he was naïve enough to comment on her mood, mentioning it must be that time of the month. Even Brom had winced at the glare Eragon received before she lay into him with the sticks they'd started their sparring with while they taught her basics. He'd found himself on the ground, the end of the stick uncomfortably close to some vital parts, hearing her icily remark, "Now say that again." He'd muttered sorry several times before she stepped back and she'd stomped off to sit under a tree, happy again a half an hour later.

He peeled off his gloves while furiously searching his mind for the healing words Brom had taught them. _Help me, Saphira,_ he implored. _I am too weak to do this alone._

Saphira crouched next to him, fixing her eyes on Bree. _I am here, Eragon._ As her mind joined his, new strength infused his body. Eragon drew on their combined power and focused it on the words. His hand trembled as he held it over the wound. "Waíse heill!" he said. His palm glowed and the skin on Bree's neck pulled together, as though it had never been broken. Murtagh watched the entire process.

It was over quickly. As the light vanished, Eragon sat, feeling sick. _We've never done that before, _he said.

Saphira nodded. _Together we can cast spells that are beyond either of us._

Murtagh examined Bree's neck and asked, "Is she completely healed?" Eragon nodded. "Will you be able to heal yourself? You look tired."

"I can only mend what is on the surface. I don't know enough to fix whatever's damaged inside. I've done all I can for a while; my bruise will have to wait until I've rested and until after I've healed Brom." Eragon closed his eyes for a moment, utterly weary. "My…my head seems to be floating in clouds.

"You took quiet a blow to the head yourself and you probably need to eat," said Murtagh. "I'll make soup."

While Murtagh fixed the meal, Eragon painfully edged his way over to Brom. There was indeed a large lump on the side of Brom's head, a graze at the top with a little dried blood. Eragon sighed in relief; Brom's breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He glanced toward the fire and wondered who this stranger was. His sword and bow were of the finest make, as was his horn. Either he was a thief or accustomed to money – and lots of it. He almost laughed, had Brom not thought the same about Bree when they first met?" He glanced toward the fire again, noticing Murtagh had taken his sword with him and it now rested on the ground by his feet, within easy reaching distance. _Why was he hunting the Ra'zac? What have they done to make him an enemy? I wonder if he works for the Varden._

Murtagh handed him a bowl of broth. Eragon spooned it down and asked, "How long has it been since the Ra'zac fled?"

"A few hours."

"We have to go before they return with reinforcements."

"You might be able to travel," said Murtagh, then gestured at Eragon's ribs. "It will be very painful."

Eragon nodded, "We don't have much of a choice though."

Murtagh agreed. "They will need to be strapped to their horses though." He looked between Brom then over to Bree. She had begun to stir.

"No one is strapping me to anything!" she snapped, struggling to a sitting position. Eragon grimaced, yep; she was in pain, definitely in pain. He should have healed Brom first, at least then she'd still be unconscious. Her glare travelled from him to Murtagh. "You," she hissed, pointing at Murtagh. "Come here so I can hit you. What took you so bloody long?" Eragon sighed, _oh good,_ he thought. _It's not me she was mad at._

Murtagh hesitated, glancing in confusion at Eragon who just shrugged, mouthing "best to get it over with quickly." Cautiously, he approached the seated girl, offering his hand to help her to feet. She took it, nodding in thanks before promptly elbowing him in stomach. She staggered over to their bags, heaving hers onto the back of Maybell's saddle, tying them down.

"I'm not doing these all by myself, you know." She looked pointedly at Eragon, who just smiled apologetically raising the edge of his shirt so she could see the bruise, hearing her gasp.

"Oh no! Eragon, are you okay?" She rushed over to kneel beside him, pressing gently at the sight of the bruise. Eragon hissed in pain, but whereas she had growled in warning at Murtagh, Saphira said nothing to her, only moving in to take a closer look herself. Bree fussed over him for a minute longer, interrupted when he mentioned that had best continue on. She nodded and stood, swiftly sitting back down again as her head began to spin in dizzying circles.

Eragon hoisted himself painfully to feet, then limped painfully over to Snowfire, leading him around to stand next to Brom. Murtagh helped him to lift Brom's sagging body and secure him to Snowfire's saddle. "I never thought I would see a sight like that," Murtagh said, an odd note to his voice. The girl's robe was tied at the waist and was fitted to where all her curves were visible. He had noticed when she'd glared at him that her eyes were blue, not just any blue, but a stormy grey-blue; shining with intensity, whether in anger or exhaustion he did not know. Her hair had started to come loose from its tie and framed her face in wispy, brown curls.

Eragon made a shushing gesture. "Don't let her hear you say stuff like that, she's cranky when she's sore."

Murtagh inclined his head in acknowledgement as the girl in question got to feet and came to stand by them, Leading Maybell and Cadoc, who were had all of trio's packs dispersed between their two saddles.

Eragon agonizingly pulled himself onto Cadoc's saddle. "Thanks for helping us. You should leave now. Ride as far away from us as you can. You'll be in danger if the Empire finds you with us. We can't protect you, and I wouldn't see harm to you on our account."

"A pretty speech," said Murtagh, grinding out the fire, "but where will you go? Is there a place nearby that you can rest in safety?"

"No," admitted Eragon.

Murtagh's eyes glinted as he fingered the hilt of his sword. "In that case, I think I'll accompany you until you're out of danger. I've no better place to be. Besides, if I stay with you, I might get another chance at the Ra'zac sooner than if I were on my own. Interesting things are bound to happen around a Rider, and someone needs to be here to protect her until you fight again."

Bree had been listening to their conversation, head moving from side to side as though she were watching a game of tennis, one eyebrow arched in amusement. "Of course you're coming with us." she smiled at him, all signs of her earlier annoyance gone. "Now hop on your pony and let's go." Murtagh didn't look too pleased at having the giant warhorse called a pony, but he complied, fetching the horse from where he was picketed by the boulders. "There are some caves ahead that we can lay low in for a little, at least long enough to have a rest." She mounted Maybell and reached to take Snowfire's reigns from Eragon, ignoring his protests. "You're having enough trouble holding onto Cadoc's. Now, if you don't shush you'll find yourself riding Saphira, wrapped in a blanket like an invalid. Do you want that?"

"Saphira wouldn't-"

"Saphira agrees with me." She turned to the dragon. "Don't you Saphira." She nodded, fixing Eragon with her large, dark eyes.

_Behave, or I'll put you on my back myself. Smelly horses. I don't really understand why you insist on riding them all the time,_ she snorted in disgust, Cadoc skipping to the side as smoke issuing from her nostrils blew across his face. _See, unreliable things._

"How far are these caves?" asked Eragon in defeat.

"I'm not sure but Saphira should be able to see them from the air, they're made of sandstone," she added for the last for Saphira's benefit, looking at the dragon who nodded, opening her wings and leaping aloft.

"Shall we then," Murtagh asked.

Eragon wavered, unsure if he should accept help from a complete stranger. Yet he was unpleasantly aware that he was too weak to force the issue either way. _Bree seems to trust him, and she acts as though she expected him to be here. If Murtagh proves untrustworthy, Saphira can always chase him away._

"Join us if you wish." He shrugged.

Murtagh nodded and mounted the grey warhorse. Eragon tried to reach for Snowfire's reigns again, but Bree pulled them back out his reach, poking her tongue out at him as she did and looking pointedly at Saphira. Eragon sighed and turned Cadoc away from the camp, into the wilderness. An oxbow moon provided wane light now that the storm and its clouds had passed, but he knew that it would only make it easier for the Ra'zac to track them.

"Which way," he asked, turning to look at Bree, wincing as the movement pulled at his side.

"Don't know; I'm following you."

"I thought you said there were caves nearby?"

Bree shrugged, saying, "There are. I'm not sure which way though, last time you just sort of headed in the right direction. Saphira found the caves as she was flying."

"Oh, this is one of your book things isn't it?" she nodded. "Alright, which way is Dras-Leona.?" Bree pointed one way and Murtagh another. Looking where Murtagh pointed, Bree changed her mind and moved her arm that way as well.

She shrugged, asking, "What?" when they both looked at her. "Honestly Eragon, you know I couldn't navigate my way out of a paper bag."

"So we'll head this way then." Eragon turned Cadoc towards the direction opposite that of the Dras-Leona and the Ra'zac's lair.

During the ride, though Eragon wanted to question Murtagh further, he kept silent, conserving his energy for riding, and for healing himself and Brom when they reached the caves and stopped. Near dawn Saphira said, _I have found those caves, they are about two miles ahead of where you are._

They found her sitting at the base of a broad sandstone formation that curved out of the ground like a giant hill. Its sides were poked with caves of varying sizes. Similar domes were scattered across the land. Saphira looked pleased with herself. _I found a cave that can't be seen from the ground. It's large enough for all of us, _and then begrudgingly added, _even the horses. Follow me._ She turned and climbed up the sandstone, her sharp claws digging into the rock. The horses had difficulty, as their shod hooves could not grip the sandstone. They had to pull and shove the animals for almost an hour before they managed to reach the cave. Brom nearly sliding off at several points as they struggled up the path.

The cavern was a good hundred feet long and more than twenty feet wide, yet it had a small opening that would protect them from bad weather and prying eyes. Darkness had swallowed the far end, clinging to the walls like mats of soft black wool.

"Impressive," said Murtagh as he and Bree carefully slid Brom from the saddle, Bree's legs buckling under the old man's weight. Once Brom was safely situated on the ground, Murtagh stood and brushed his hands on his tunic. "I'll gather wood for a fire." Eragon hurried to Brom, clasping his limp hand anxiously and watching his craggy face.

"He'll be fine Eragon, you'll see. It's just a little bump." Bree gave him an encouraging smile as she pulled him over to their supplies, setting him to pulling out what they'd need for dinner while she unrolled their blankets, spreading one over Brom. Despite her words, Bree was worried, she was a modern girl after all, and she knew the kind of damage that could result from such an injury.

They worked in silence for a minute before Eragon broke it by asking softly, "Is Murtagh alright? He won't murder us in our sleep?"

Bree laughed and smiled reassuringly at him, "No, of course he won't."

"Alright," Eragon was still wary but said, "I trust you." There was another moment of silence. "He was there before, wasn't he? In your books."

Bree frowned, "Yes he was. But as that Ra'zac put its dagger at Brom's throat, I was so scared he wouldn't be, that maybe something we'd done, something _I'd_ done, had changed things."

"Was that why you asked me to stall? I hadn't a clue what you wanted me do, my thoughts were so fuzzy."

"I know what you mean; it took me ages to find your thoughts after the Ra'zac had poured that stuff down my throat. You're lucky you were unconscious; it tasted awful and burnt my throat on the way down." They stopped their conversation as Murtagh re-entered the cave, arms loaded down with wood.

Bree left Eragon sitting by Brom and went to Murtagh light the fire he had built, whispering "Brisingr" to the wood, watching as small yellow flames started to dance through the pile.

They ate quietly, and then tried to give Brom water, but the old man would not drink. Stymied, they lay down on their bedrolls and slept, each with a sword by their side and Saphira guarding the entrance to the cave.

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A.N. Okay, so Brom is still alive, though not quite kicking at the moment. He's just suffered a blow to the temple region, so he needs a longer nap then Eragon, who was really just dazed by his bump to the head, and Bree, who'd gone too far using magic and passed out for a minute or two.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters.

**A.N.** Thanks go to whose review inspired part of this chapter. If anyone else has suggestions or ideas on what they'd like to see happen, feel free to let me know.

Wow! Ten chapters in just over a week. Don't you all just love me? Can I go to sleep now, _Plleeeaaasse._

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Chapter 10

Bree stretched, every muscle was tight and sore. _What on earth did I do yesterday?_ she wondered, looking at the rock above her. Then she remembered. Sitting up she looked around the cave, her eyes resting on the sleeping forms of Brom and Eragon, and Saphira by the cave's mouth, stopping at the stranger by the fire. "Good morning," she said, moving to check on Brom. She thought he might have a slight temperature, but other than that he seemed to be doing fine.

"Good morning," came the reply. "Would you like some breakfast? We left before you had anything to eat last night." He said looking somewhat guilty.

"Breakfast sounds great. And don't worry about it; with the way I felt, poor Maybell would have had it all over her back a few minutes into riding. It was bad enough with an _empty_ stomach"

He nodded, handing her a bowl. "My name is Murtagh, by the way."

"Bree." She smiled at him, and Murtagh had to admit she had a beautiful smile. "And I know who you are."

"I suppose Eragon told you last night."

"No," she said, pausing. "But maybe I should have told him."

"I don't think I'm following you."

"I know who you are Murtagh," she glanced at Saphira to be sure she was still sleeping, slipping quickly into her thoughts; the others wouldn't hear from this distance. She lowered her voice. "Son of Morzan."

He froze, averting his eyes. "How did you find out?"

"You have your secrets, I have mine." She shrugged. "It doesn't bother me, Murtagh." She reached out and lifted his chin, so he was looking back at her face. "You didn't choose your father. I only mentioned it to you now because I know Brom will mind." She smiled fondly, saying, "He's old and set in his ways. But we love him."

"And Eragon?"

They both looked to where the boy lay sleeping; an arm wrapped around his sword like it was a favourite teddy bear. Bree had to grin at how adorable he looked; sometimes she forgot just how young Eragon really was. "He won't mind," she assured Murtagh. "He'll be wary at first, but he needs to be if he's going to survive this, we all do."

They sat in silence for a moment, then, "I think the old man's waking up." Murtagh got to feet and walked over to check on him, Bree following behind.

Indeed Brom's eyes were flickering open. He stared at Murtagh, who was hovered over him checking the graze on his head, in open confusion. Bree leaned in so he could see her too. "How do feel?" she asked, taking his hand in her own. His eyes moved to hers, then back to the stranger who had finished his inspection and rocked back on his heels.

"Who?" Brom's voice was raspy, and he coughed. Trying again he managed, speaking to Bree "Who is that and where are we?" He tried to look around, concern showing on face. "Where's Eragon?"

"Shh. He's alright, he's sleeping. It's been a long night." She gently pushed him back down when he endeavoured to sit. "You to a blow to the head from a Ra'zac, you need to rest."

"Where are they, I thought they would have killed us."

"Don't worry they're gone. We're safe," Bree soothed, stroking his hair off his forehead.

"They'll come back, bringing soldiers this time." Murtagh warned her. She shot him a 'you're not helping' look.

Brom struggled to sit, ignoring Bree's protests that he should be lying down, and repeated his earlier question. "Who are you?" He looked Murtagh in the eyes. "You look familiar, but I cannot place you."

Bree shot Murtagh a nervous glance. "This is Murtagh." Realisation dawned across Brom's face as he reached to his side for sword, finding it was not there, he made to pull Bree behind him.

Bree took her chance and, while Brom was off balance, she gently pushed him back down, holding her hand to his chest when he tried to rise. "We can talk more, but only if your head does not leave that blanket." She told him sternly, keeping a firm pressure against his chest.

"Bree, he's dangerous, he's the son of a foresworn." She nodded, Murtagh avoiding their gazes and moving to stand closer to fire.

"I know, shh, you'll wake Eragon." she stopped him from interrupting. "I know who he is, and I'll explain when Eragon wakes up. And_ no_, I'm not waking him up. We should all be getting some rest, you and him especially." Brom pushed her hand away, pulled off the blankets that covered him and shakily got to his feet, putting himself between the two.

"You don't understand; he's _Morzan's_ son."

"I _know_ Brom," she said exasperatedly. "He saved us Brom, saved you." She looked into his eyes, saying pointedly so only he could hear, "he's in the book."

_Wake up, Eragon._ He tried to ignore the voice and return to sleep, but found the low murmuring harder to ignore. As he listened he noticed it was the sound of hushed, yet angry, voices. Sitting up he rubbed at his eyes. Looking around the cave he found the source of the disturbance. Three figures were standing around the fire gesturing at each other. He got up and limped slowly over. Murtagh, the only one to notice him, took a step forward to help, hesitated, then stepped back against the wall.

"Have something to say about all of this, do you?" Brom's voice was getting louder; ringing through Eragon's already pounding head.

"What's going on, why are you arguing?"

"You didn't tell him?" Brom rounded on Bree.

"I was waiting for you to wake up." She told him.

"You have put all our lives in danger. Did anyone even keep watch last night?"

"Tell me what?" came Eragon's confused voice.

"I took the first watch, then Murtagh took over when I could barely keep my eyes open and Saphira's been awake on and off all night too. I thought you trusted me more than this." she said, looking hurt.

"You I trust, it's the boy that's the threat."

Bree turned to Murtagh, "Perhaps you'd better wait outside for a minute." She smiled apologetically. "I wouldn't want you to lose any necessary body parts." She joked, pushing him gently toward the opening of the cave. It'll be fine," she assured him.

Murtagh grabbed his sword and quickly left the cave. "You're going to apologise to him when he comes back inside." Bree poked her teacher in the chest. "Now sit down before you fall." She noticed Eragon was also looking pale. "Both of you." She held Eragon's arm as he lowered himself painfully to sit next to the fire, propped against a saddlebag. Seeing Eragon wince had concerned Brom and Bree was able to direct him to the ground as well.

"You're hurt." He stated, concern showing in his eyes.

"We'd best those healed. Shirt off please," instructed Bree. After a few hours of rest, she felt much better and was ready to begin tackling some of the others' injuries. She heard Brom's intake of breath as she helped Eragon removed his shirt and the blanket that bound hid chest; the discoloured skin appeared even worse today. It had gone from yellow to purple, with green and brown smudges. There were also spots of dried blood from where the skin had broken. Bree gingerly put her hands over the bruise, muttering "Waíse heill." Once the discolouration had faded, Bree dropped back onto her bottom. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying not to fall over completely, as the pull from the magic drained her strength.

"Feeling better?" Eragon nodded, but winced again as his broken ribs moved. "Brom will have to fix those for you later. I know they hurt but we'll need to leave soon and I don't think Brom will be up to doing that and riding just yet."

"Now tell me what happened, I can remember very little."

"Eragon, can you go and get Murtagh for me? He should be just outside." As Eragon was leaving she called out, "And keep your mind in touch with Saphira's. Just in case."

"You're being awfully cautious after proclaiming your trust the boy." Brom noted.

"It's not Murtagh I'm worried about." She said softly. "Last night, Eragon saw the Ra'zac but dismissed their movement as a bird. If anything happens to him, we've got Saphira to let us know."

"Bree," said Brom, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "Murtagh is the son of Morzan. The first and last of the Foresworn. He's dangerous."

"He is not his father, Brom." She sighed, "How can I make you understand. He's a much his father as Eragon and I are ours." She looked at Brom, "We make enough of our own mistakes without having to carry the burden of theirs."

There was a pause while Brom thought about what she had said. "The people we were raised by and what they taught us affect our future actions. He has been raised around Morzan and the king."

"I won't disagree with you on that Brom, but what Murtagh learnt was to fear and hate his father. The man threw Zar'roc at him when he was three years old. He has a scar across half his body to remind him every day of what his childhood was like."

"He showed you this." She shook her head. "Then you read it. I'm sorry Bree, but I can't put as much trust in these books as you do, especially now you are here, things have changed. Your arrival may have caused a domino effect. You can't rely on them all the time."

"I've realised that Brom, for a moment I thought-" she stopped as two figures appeared in the entrance way. She reached for her sword then sat back again when Saphira failed to growl at them as she would at the Ra'zac. "Once we tell you everything that happened, you _will_ apologise," she told him sternly.

As the boys approached, Eragon sitting down beside Brom, Bree patted the ground next to her. Murtagh hesitated, looking cautiously at Brom who would not look him in the eyes, then slowly sat down. She reached over and took one of his hands in her own, gently rubbing small circles across its back.

Bree looked to the group. "How much do you remember?" she asked Brom.

"Up until fighting a Ra'zac. You used a spell as it tried to sneak up on me."

"Right, I wasn't all there for a few minutes, I was just trying not to black out. You were hit on the side of the head and collapsed. The Ra'zac put its sword to Eragon's throat when Saphira tried to go for the one holding me. They bound our arms and took the swords. I blacked out for a minute or two and when I woke up, they were forcing some sort of liquid down our throats, it burned like you wouldn't believe and suddenly I couldn't think straight. I knew I could use magic but I couldn't remember _how. _I passed out again soon after that; they'd started putting chains over Saphira." She looked between Murtagh and Eragon, gesturing for one of them go next.

"I must have woken up just after, they had Saphira's wings pinioned to her sides and were putting a muzzle over her. I tried to use magic too, but everything was fuzzy, I couldn't even contact Saphira. They went through our bags, one called you a lady as he went through your bags," Eragon smiled at Bree, Murtagh looking up from his contemplation of his hand in hers.

"Yes I heard that. One had Zar'roc, I said something about them liking shiny things, I think." She frowned in thought. "They dragged me closer to Eragon. I could feel the drug starting to wear off and I kept trying to find Eragon's thoughts. They were mocking Eragon and then started screeching and hissing. They said he'd serve their master well, then," she looked at Eragon, "you started threatening them."

"At least I wasn't mocking them." He turned to face Brom. "They had said we were disposable and she started saying how they couldn't have been as valuable as they thought they were because Galbatorix was obviously keeping things from them. She told them that he'd be really angry if they killed me because Saphira would die."

"Saphira's the last female dragon left in Alagaësia. The last two eggs are male." Bree added. "Then you started to move Brom, and they were debating whether to kill you or me. They settled on killing you because I was younger and, what did they say, oh yeah, my mind would be easier to break or something." The three shared a smile at that. "But I'd finally gotten through to Eragon and was trying to get him to stall."

"Yes, you kept yelling at me to stall, I had no clue what you were talking about. When a Ra'zac put a knife to your throat Brom, she threw a stone at him. He dropped you and grabbed her, then arrows started flying everywhere. You got up and stumbled over to where I was, as the Ra'zac took cover behind some boulders. When arrows started coming from behind them, they fled, but they threw a knife at us first. You went to jump in front of me, and then something pulled both of us out of the way. Murtagh had said it was Bree using magic. I lost consciousness after that."

Everyone turned expectantly toward Murtagh, "I arrived to hear the Ra'zac screeching, it was how I found your camp. Once I was in a safe position I realised that you were indeed mocking them," he seemed torn between shock and concern. "Unfortunately there was always someone between my arrow and the Ra'zac, I couldn't get a clear shot until they stopped to kill you, I'm sorry I didn't get my shot off quick enough to spare you getting cut."

Brom interrupted, "You were injured?"

"Yes, the Ra'zac had already made to slit my throat for insulting him one too many times, but Eragon healed that soon after." She gestured for Murtagh to continue.

"It didn't take long to move through the trees until I was behind the Ra'zac and after another few shots they fled, but not before throwing a knife directly at the two of you. I saw you," he raised his eyes to Brom, "jump in front of Eragon and the knife would have gone into your chest if Bree hadn't pulled you out of the way. That was some really impressive magic; I didn't even hear you say any words of power you were so quick."

"Actually I don't think I said anything, I just felt something twist as I watched that blade get closer, knowing what would happen and that I couldn't do anything from where I was."

"You were unconscious by the time I reached you. Once I'd checked and seen that the cut was shallow I moved to release your dragon. She tried to squash me until I told her I was there to help."

_I was under immense stress. And who knew who this strange boy could have been._ Saphira defended herself through Eragon, giving a snort that sent a cloud of smoke rolling over them. Brom gave Bree a satisfied smirk which she chose to ignore.

"Once the dragon-"

"Saphira" Eragon corrected.

"Once Saphira was lose," Murtagh amended, "she went to stand over Eragon. I had honestly thought the injured girl was the Rider from the intensity of the magic she'd used and was surprised when the dr…When Saphira didn't rush to her. She wouldn't let me look at either of you and kept you almost completely hidden from view under her wings. I patched up Bree as best I could and when Eragon was conscious again he healed her cut."

"You both used magic when you were already exhausted?" Brom said, voice full of disapproval. "_And_ you just performed magic again on Eragon." He'd turned to Bree, frowning.

"So maybe healing Eragon right away wasn't the smartest of moves but we may need to leave quickly and it won't help matters if Eragon can barely move. Did the Ra'zac see you?" she asked Murtagh.

"Not that I'm aware. But the whole Empire will be out for the three of you." He turned a glare on Brom. "You really shouldn't have allowed Bree to accompany you this far, constantly being on the run is no life for a lady."

Eragon tried to hide an amused snort, while Bree asked, "Just what makes you think I'm a lady?"

Murtagh seemed confused at her question. "Your clothing is of excellent quality though it is a little plain, your speech isn't that of country peasant, nor are the items you've been unpacking, perhaps the sword, and you seem to know a lot about things only someone living in the palace would know, though I must admit I can't recall ever seeing your face in court."

"That would be because I've never been to your court. I haven't even been to Urủ'baen before; just from the Spine to here." Murtagh looked surprised to hear this. "And I'll have you know I am perfectly capable of defending myself," she sniffed, removing her hand from his and crossing her arms dramatically, looking away to the side.

"Which is why, the first time I saw you, you had the dagger of a Ra'zac against your throat."

"That was only because I was actively insulting and goading them."

Murtagh crossed his own arms. "And that is always a good idea. Incite the enemy's anger."

"If you must know, I was stalling until you got there."

He gave a derisive snort, "Because you knew someone was coming; a knight in shining armour that would come to your rescue?"

"Correction, I knew _you_ were coming." She poked him in the chest for emphasis. "Which, might I add, you took your sweet time doing."

"How could you know that, I didn't even know you were there until I heard the Ra'zac screeching.'

Bree sighed and then explained her story to him. "So you see, you had already come to _their_ rescue and would theoretically come to _ours_. Though I was terrified for a moment there when they had a knife at Brom's throat and you still a no-show." She looked sadly at Brom. "In the book the dagger doesn't hit a tree, it hits you. You didn't live long Brom. Eragon, Saphira and Murtagh buried you up there" she pointed to the ceiling of their cave.

"So we now know that you can definitely make changes. We also can't put as much faith in the books when dealing with future developments," said Brom.

"I know."

There was a brief silence in which Bree kept looking pointedly at Brom then flicking her eyes over to Murtagh. He cleared his throat. "It seems I owe you my thanks for helping the children and myself," both 'children bristled at being described thus, "but you should continue on your own journey. You will not be welcome where we are heading."

"We're going to the Varden," Bree clarified and watched as his seemed to turn to stone. "But you're sticking with us until then."

"I will not go to the Varden, I'd probably be safer heading back to Urủ'baen." Bree had to agree with him on that.

"Still, it would be nice to have you along. You don't really have anything better to do anyway."

"I was hunting the Ra'zac."

"Pfft. They'll probably show up near us eventually." She nodded, "It's settled then, you're coming with us."

Eragon leant forward as far as his ribs would allow, asking Bree, "Now, what was it you were going to tell me?"

"Murtagh and Brom both have something they need to tell you," she said, looking at the two. "I'm giving you until this time tomorrow. I was going to wait until we got closer to the Varden, because it'll all come out then anyway, but Eragon needs to know now so there won't be any nasty shocks later."

"And if I do not wish to tell him?"

"Then Brom or I will whether you continue with us or not. I'm sorry Murtagh but bad things might happen if he doesn't trust you at certain points. He's the only one of us who doesn't know this about you." She gave him a one armed hug. "And I think you're the only one here who's really bothered by your secret; the only one who really cares about who you knew."

They spent the rest of the day resting. The cave was safe enough for now and they could leave at first light. Bree fell asleep, leaning against Murtagh, while they discussed everything that had happened to them recently. Murtagh told them about how he'd been taken to the castle in Urủ'baen after shortly after his mother had died, and how, after a disturbing conversation with the King, he'd left. Making his escape under the cover of darkness, he'd gone to hunt the Ra'zac. He didn't give many details but Brom seemed appeased. Eventually they all returned to their bedrolls; tomorrow would be a long day.

That night, Eragon dreamed of the imprisoned woman again.

_He could tell that something was wrong with her. Her breathing was irregular, and she shook – whether from cold or pain, he did not know. In the semidarkness of the cell, the only thing clearly illuminated was her hand, which hung over the edge of the cot. A dark liquid dripped from the tips of her fingers. Eragon knew it was blood._

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A.N. A little more Bree time in this chapter. Let me know what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters.

**A.N.** Here you go guys. In this chapter, we make a decision and ramble for a little bit.

**A.N. 2** Hey guys! This chapter is being reloaded with an added sentence just to clear up some confusion. At the very, very end of this chapter was the line _"Aww, you're so sweet."_ I've just added _Bree said, batting her eyelashes._ to the end of that.

Sometimes I need to remember that even though it sounds great in my head, I'm the only one in there and I can't expect everyone to always know what I'm talking about. Thanks to those who pointed out my error and if you find any more, let me know.

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Chapter 11

"Eragon?" He opened his eyes to see Bree's concerned face leaning over him. "Are you alright? You were moaning and thrashing around." She whispered.

Eragon looked blearily around the cave. It was still dark outside but the light from a dying fire allowed him to see that Brom was till fast asleep and Murtagh had sat up on his bed, watching them. "I'm fine," he assured them. "It was just a bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently. Murtagh had lain himself back down at the mention of the disturbance being a dream.

"It was the woman again; she looked really hurt this time." He shuddered. "I saw blood dripping from the ends of her fingers and she was shaking."

"All right," Bree sighed. "Try and get some sleep, Eragon. We'll talk to Brom about it in the morning. He always knows what to do." She sat with him and stoked his forehead until his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. Once she was sure he was asleep she crawled back under her blankets.

"Is everything alright?" Murtagh's quiet voice came from the nearby bedding.

"For now." Bree closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

When Eragon woke, his body was stiff and sore all over, especially his ribs which kept up a dull ache, twinging with pain each time he moved. The cave was empty except for the horses. He walked to the edge of the cave and sat on the pitted sandstone, staring out over the dry and dusty landscape. The rising sun brought a desert heat to the early morning and he closed his eyes, absorbing the warmth.

He was still there when Brom and Murtagh climbed up to the cave, each carrying a pair of rabbits. "How are you?" asked Brom.

"As well as can be expected. Where are Saphira and Bree?"

"We found a stream that flows just behind the cave. She said something about needing a bath. Brom sent Saphira with her for protection since we were coming back up here."

They moved to the fire and set to skinning the rabbits for breakfast. Not very long after, Bree poked her head around the edge of the cave, her hair dripping water down her back. "All done?" she called. As Saphira scrambled her way the cave's opening.

Eragon laughed. "They're in the pot and cooking, Breakfast will be ready soon."

"Oh good," she sighed, flopping down beside Brom in contentment. She smiled at Murtagh's slightly confused expression. "I will catch them, kill them, chase them off with a stick, but there is no way I'm going to peel their skin off. I leave that to them." She gestured toward Brom and Eragon. "It doesn't bother them. Most of the time I can't even be in the camp when they do it, it's bad enough eating the poor little things. Where I come from bunnies are pets; not dinner."

"And yet you choose to follow us around the countryside. You could be in house somewhere with a bed and meals cooked for you."

She tilted her head to the side, saying, "but _you_ cook for me here." She couldn't hold the serious expression and giggled. "No, seriously, I like being with you lot. You're dysfunctional and moody, have little to no idea about personal hygiene, but I love ya."

"You're in a good mood today," Brom noted.

"I've slept, had a bath that wasn't absolutely freezing, had some girl time with Saphira and someone else cut up the bunnies. I'm also blatantly refusing to think about the consequences of Eragon's dream. I'm good."

"Which dream?" asked Brom.

Eragon looked carefully at Murtagh but spoke after a nod from Bree indicated he should continue. "I dreamt about her again last night." Brom didn't need to ask who "her" was. "She's in a lot of troubled Brom, there was blood dripping from her fingers. I don't know if she has much time left."

Brom rubbed his forehead, a gesture he indulged in when his thoughts conflicted. "We need to get to the Varden. She's in a heavily guarded prison, and I'm not sure we can get her out."

"Where is this prison, perhaps I've been there," questioned Murtagh.

"Gilead," stated Brom.

"That's a soldier's barracks!" he exclaimed in shock. "What could possibly be so important there that you would risk capture by Galbatorix's men?

"An elf. She's in trouble and she needs help," said Eragon.

"Well, I haven't been there; it's a long way from the capital. And I was rarely allowed to travel. But that town is full of well-trained soldiers, all loyal to the king."

"Don't forget the shade."

"Shade?" Murtagh asked.

"Yes, Durza the Shade. Look," she turned to Brom, "I'd rather forget Gilead and just head straight to the Varden, skip the whole Shade fiasco that's bound to occur, but I don't think I can leave Arya there to die. We both know where Eragon stands on this."

"It appears we are going to Gilead. It will mean doubling back towards the north but we won't need to stick to any of the main roads and it should not be too difficult to avoid the towns along the way."

Murtagh shook his head. "You have a serious death wish if you are really planning on going through with this. Rescuing an Elf from inside a town housing an army of soldiers and protected by a Shade is unlikely to be successful."

"So is avoiding Galbatorix, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do," said Eragon.

Bree leaned closer to Murtagh, adding, "The joys of following Hero around." Eragon grimaced at the title; Bree would constantly refer to him as the Hero or Master Swordsman, occasionally bowing to him as she said it.

"Why do you follow them?" asked Murtagh. "Surely you could work in a town somewhere?"

"Probably not after escaping Dras-Leona and once the Ra'zac make their report to Galbatorix I don't think I'll be too popular. We never really discussed my joining them, but I knew from the beginning that I wanted to stick close to them anyway. We were going to discuss it further in Dras-Leona, but we ended up being chased out of there and then we were attacked by the Ra'zac. I think my chance for quiet anonymity in Alagaësia has passed." She looked to Brom. "I'd still like to follow you to the Varden; it will at least be relatively safe there."

"So where to?" asked Murtagh. "The Varden or Gilead? I have my doubts we'll get to do both. However, if you chose the Varden I will not stay with you long. Encountering the Varden would be as dangerous for me as walking unarmed into Urủ'baen with a fanfare of trumpets to announce my arrival."

There was silence as they all looked at each other. Brom sighed, yielding to Eragon and Bree's pleading looks. "Saddle up the horses and we'll leave now, it's a long way to Gilead and we'll want to get there while there's still a chance for us to be of assistance.

"Looks like you won't have to leave us anytime soon," remarked Eragon as he stood. "We should leave before the day grows any older."

"Are you strong enough to travel?" asked Brom. "I'm afraid your ribs will need to wait a little longer, my head is too fuzzy and I am too old to risk attempting to heal them just yet."

"Let me," said Bree. "I feel much less tired today."

Brom shook his head and warned, "It takes far more to heal something like a broken compared to simple bruising. Remember it takes weeks to heal a broken bone under normal circumstances, where as it is mere days, perhaps a week or two, to completely heal a scratch or bruise. The words are the same but you must focus more on the intent; be specific, you don't want to find yourself healing every ailment someone may suffering."

After they had saddled the horses and were leading them to the stream for a last drink before they headed into the desert, Murtagh said, "I feel foolish for asking, but I must know…is your Brom _the_ Brom? The one who helped steal a dragon egg from the king, chased it across the Empire and killed Morzan in a duel? I've been wondering since you first said his name, but I must know for certain."

Bree looked to Eragon, then ahead to where Brom was already standing by the side of the stream with Snowfire. "Yes, Murtagh, he is." A troubled expression settled on Murtagh's face. "But this conversation will have to wait until both you and Eragon know everything. Remember. You have until after dinner tonight before I do the talking."

"How do you know all that?" asked Eragon. "You talk about things that are secret to most, and you were trailing the Ra'zac right when we needed help. We know you couldn't be like Bree as she seems to know as much about you as she does everyone else. Are you one of the Varden?"

Bree snorted, startling Cadoc who walked between her and Eragon. "The Varden." She shook her head, smiling at some inner thought the boys could only guess at.

Murtagh's eyes, however, became inscrutable orbs. "I'm running away, like you." There was restrained sorrow in his words. "I do not belong to either the Varden or the Empire. Nor do I owe allegiance to any man but myself. As for my rescuing you, I will admit that I've heard whispered tales of a new Rider and reasoned that by following the Ra'zac I might discover if they were true."

"I thought you wanted to kill the Ra'zac," said Eragon.

Murtagh smiled grimly. "I do, but if I had, I never would have met you."

"Aww, you're so sweet." Bree said, batting her eyelashes.

They were laughing when they finally reached Brom and let the horses drink; their spirits still high as they set out for Gilead with Saphira circling overhead, looking to all the world nothing more than a buzzard searching for carrion.

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A.N. Short again, I know, but this was a good spot to stop.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters.

**A.N.** Sorry this one took so long, I was hit with inspiration and I just had to write it all down. You'll all be happy to know that I've written three future chapters. Distant future, I'll admit, but they are written.

Make sure you guys read the **Author's Note 2** from the last chapter. It's just to clear up a bit of confusion a few of were having.

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Chapter 12

"I'm bored," Bree stated, standing up. They had stopped for the night in sheltered hollow in the ground. A small fire had been built and the horses had been picketed where there was sufficient grass. "Someone spar with me."

"Not me," said Eragon, raising his hands and indicating his still bandaged ribs.

She looked at Brom, who shook his head. "Perhaps our young friend would assent; I would very much like to see how well he can defend himself. I will try and heal Eragon's ribs while you fight."

Bree turned her gaze to Murtagh who was adjusting the feathers on some of his arrows. He looked doubtful. "I wouldn't wish to hurt you," he said.

Bree's put her hands on her hips, heatedly tapping her foot. "Are you saying I can't defend myself?" Eragon looked up and made a cutting gesture across his throat, indicating Murtagh shouldn't answer. "Well?"

Murtagh looked between her and Eragon, unsure of what to say. "It's just that you're a girl, and sword fighting is dangerous. It takes a lot of practice to be able to defend yourself from an attack." He looked to Brom, "Why would you encourage such a thing?"

Brom just shrugged his shoulders, helping Eragon to remove his shirt. "She needed to know how to defend herself if she was going to be travelling with us." He smiled mischievously. "She might just surprise you. The swords are dulled with magic; just watch your knees, she'll go for them first."

"Hey! That's not fair. You can't tell him what I'm going to do." She exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips in indignation.

"Alright then, if you're sure the blades will not be sharp."

"Great!" said Bree, back to her good mood. "Just hand your sword to Eragon to fix and come fight me," she said, running her fingers down the blade of her sword, using magic to remove the keen edges.

They circled each other slowly, Bree knew what to expect when she fought Brom or Eragon; where their weaknesses were, what moves they were likely to make, what moves they had the most trouble blocking and those they could block easily so weren't worth her time and effort. After a few minutes Eragon called exasperatedly, "Just get on with it will you, you're starting to make me feel dizzy, circling around like a pair of vultures."

Bree didn't take her eyes from Murtagh's as she answered. "I'm fighting you next, so just watch what you say." Eragon laughed. Murtagh made to attack while she was distracted. She easily blocked his first blow, angered at how weak it was. "If you're going to fight me do it properly. This is practice for the real thing, it isn't a game." She backed this up with a determined swipe at his knees, almost knocking his feet from under him.

"I warned you," Brom remarked calmly as he unwrapped the bandage from around Eragon's ribs. Murtagh just huffed as he rubbed the side of his leg where the sword had struck.

The fight increased in severity from there, Murtagh's strikes becoming faster and harder with each blow Bree managed to block. After another minute or two, he managed to knock the sword from her hands by putting pressure close to the hilt of her sword, then turning his until her grip loosened.

"Well done," he remarked. "I'm surprised that you are so good. Most girls I know wouldn't even have been able to tell one end of a sword from the other, let alone lift it. I apologise for implying that you couldn't defend yourself."

"What did you think we did before you came along; sit around the fire and catch up on our needlepointing?"

"Okay, I'm next," said Eragon as he stood and cautiously stretched his arms over his head. "Thankyou Brom, it feels much better."

"Just try not to get hurt again in the next day or two." He leaned back against one of their bags to relax while he watched them spar, smiling fondly at Eragon.

Eragon drew Zar'roc from its sheath. Since the Ra'zac had caught them in the cathedral, he had taken to wearing it at all times. He had not carried Zar'roc nor used it in combat, except when he and Brom sparred, because he had not wanted people to see it. It didn't concern him anymore. The Ra'zac had seemed surprised and frightened by the sword; that was more than enough reason for him to wear it. "Who's first?" he asked, looking to where the two fighters had collapsed by the fire while they waited for him to dull his sword.

Murtagh looked up and was about to offer to go first, but stopped on seeing Eragon's sword. His eyes narrowed. "That sword. May I see it?" he asked, getting to feet.

Eragon hesitated, reluctant to relinquish the weapon for even a moment, then nodded. Murtagh examined the symbol on the blade intently. His face darkened. "Where did you get this?"

"Brom gave it to me. Why?" The others had now stood as well and were looking on in concern.

Murtagh shoved the sword back and crossed his arms angrily. He was breathing hard. "That sword," he said with emotion, "was once as well-known as its owner. The last Rider to carry it was Morzan; a brutal, savage man. I thought you were an enemy of the Empire, yet here I find you bearing one of the Foresworn's bloody swords!"

Eragon stared at Zar'roc in shock, then looked questioningly to Brom. He realised that Brom must have taken it from Morzan after they fought in Gil'ead. "You never told me where it came from."

"He never told you?" asked Murtagh, a note of disbelief in his voice. "I can't think of any reason for you to have concealed it."

Bree stepped between them then, taking a hand of each boy in her own and pulling them gently towards the fire. "I was going to give you until after dinner, but now seems as good a time as any. Brom, you'll need to hear this too so come sit down." She looked around their small group, motioning to Saphira that she could come closer if she wished. "Does anyone to say anything before I start?" They all avoided looking at her. "Very well, Murtagh is the son of Morzan."

"What?" asked Eragon, his head snapping up look at their newest companion. "Is that how you knew about Zar'roc?" Murtagh nodded.

"I assume the sword brought up some memories, he'd rather have left forgotten," said Bree. "He was not raised with Morzan or his mother but in a separate location. Morzan feared what the other Rider's might do if they found he had a son, not out of love, but because they might one day use the boy against him. Morzan threw the sword at him when he was about three years old and he still has the scar.

Murtagh's mother spent the majority of her time with Morzan, but I'll get back to her later." She shot a look of warning to Brom. "His mother had disappeared for a few months and died shortly after returning. She had been ill. Then Morzan was killed by Brom and Murtagh was taken to the king's palace in Urủ'baen to live and continue his studies. I'm not entirely sure of what happened then but he fled not too long ago and now he's here with us."

"How do you know all of this?" Murtagh questioned, avoiding her gaze.

"I'll explain later, but there's more you all need to know first." She took a quick drink from one of the wineskins, handing it to Brom when she was done. "Remember when I said Murtagh's mother had disappeared for a few months?" They all nodded. "She was pregnant and didn't want another child of hers to be subjected to Morzan and his unpredictable rages."

"She could not have been pregnant; Morzan would have known and would not have let here leave so easily." Murtagh interrupted, but Bree was watching Brom's face. His expression was set and she knew he was aware of what was coming.

"She was. Brom knows it too."

"How would Brom know?" asked Eragon, perplexed.

"Because he was the one that had gotten her pregnant, then he stole Saphira's egg and had to flee to the Varden. I think she had already died when he found out, I can't quite remember the details anymore. That's when he left for Carvahall, a sleepy little village in the middle of the spine."

"Sounds like a good place to hide out," said Murtagh. "I doubt the Empire would look for such a man as you in a place like that."

"What do you mean?" asked Eragon.

Bree looked to see if Brom would tell them, when he didn't move she said instead. "Brom was once a Rider. His dragon was also called Saphira." Saphira lifted her head.

_I was aware he was a Rider but I had not known his dragon's name._

_And you didn't tell me? Why?_

_He asked me not to,_ she said simply.

_I would have never suspected that he was a Rider. Brom! He really is an old man, as old as the Foresworn. Everything he has taught us about magic he must have learnt from the Riders themselves._ He spoke Saphira's next thought aloud. "Saphira wants to know what happened to your dragon."

When Brom again made no move to answer, instead continuing to examine his hands and shake his head, Bree spoke. "Morzan killed her. Brom got his revenge, killing him with his own sword; with Zar'roc. But, as Morzan drew his last breath so did his dragon. For a while Brom thought that Shruikan was the last dragon and then he discovered the existence of the three eggs. Galbatorix kept much from even his faithful Foresworn."

"You were one of the Foresworn?" asked Eragon, after a brief pause. "So that's why you hid in Carvahall; to escape those in the cities that might recognise you?"

"Brom, you need to tell this bit." Bree sat back, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Brom sighed, his hand going to forehead, after a moment he pulled at his beard, then looked carefully at Eragon. "I was there to watch over my son, if only from a distance." His smile was sad but there was a fondness in his eyes as he looked over Eragon. "You grew up to be a magnificent young man and I am very proud of you."

Eragon just sat there, frozen in shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Finally Murtagh spoke, "But that would make my mother…his." He was looking intently at Eragon.

"I didn't find out until after I'd come to know about all of you. You see, there are traitors within the Varden that know who Murtagh's mother is and they hear the name of Eragon's through his thoughts, they just put two and two together, tell Galbatorix and then Murtagh told Eragon."

"How do you know this? You're speaking as though it has yet to happen. Are you some sort of seer?" Murtagh asked his earlier question again.

Bree heaved a sigh. "I'd love to say 'let's go with seer' but that would be a lie and I _have_ just outed a lot of your secrets, so, I'm not from this world." She held up a hand to prevent Murtagh's comment. "My name is Brianna Scott, I'm nineteen years old and where I come from you are a character in a book, like the ones in my bag. You're just part of a make-believe world someone wrote down on paper."

"You have this book with you?" he asked.

"At home I do but whoever included the ones I have with me now seemed to think it wasn't necessary. Or that it was dangerous. We use the same language as yours in my world. For me it's English but you call Alagaësian."

"And according to this _book_ someone in the Varden is a traitor," he stated evenly.

"Yes. You're being awfully calm about this. It took weeks to fully convince Brom and Eragon," Bree said in shock.

"I trust you and, judging from their lack of reaction, it would appear that they do as well." He met her gaze for the first time during the night's long conversation. "I have little reason left to doubt you, you know too much about me; about all of us. My only worry is that the information you have will be easily found by others, you have said yourself that there are those in Varden that can read the thoughts of others. I have spent many years developing my shields so as to not allow their prying. It may have all been worthless if they can just go through you."

"Oh that." She rubbed the back of her neck guiltily. "I'm kind of not readable. Try," she said in response to his cynical look. The look quickly melted into one of confusion, she could feel him trying but he wasn't succeeding.

"It's as though you are not there. I feel no defences but I cannot find anything to hold on to. Can you read thoughts as well or does this 'gap' prevent it?" he questioned, leaning forward with his hands resting on his knees.

Bree felt his presence leave her mind. "I can certainly read thoughts," she gestured to Brom and Eragon. "They can't keep me out, they don't even notice when I'm in their thoughts. I can see where their defences are, or what I assume would be their defences but it is little more than a distortion I just have to slip through, then I'm in. as long as I don't think too loudly no-one knows I'm even there. It certainly makes speaking with Saphira easier."

"You've been in my thoughts?" he asked warily.

"At first it was only to see if I could and then, sometimes, it was to check you were alright when you were longer than usual at hunting." She was watching his reaction as she spoke, noticing a frown begin to appear. "I didn't go deep, just the surface thoughts." She assured him, then jokingly asked, "Do you really think I have pretty eyes?" She sidled up to him and batted her eyelashes. Eragon laughed and she turned on him glaring.

"You're pretty!" Eragon placated quickly, shuffling closer to Brom for protection.

Bree smiled at him then, giggling when she noticed Eragon glare at Saphira, whose teeth were pulled back as she made a hissing sound. During their girl time earlier, Bree and Saphira had talked about Eragon's dream. He had told her about his dream before falling back asleep; Bree had felt their conversation as she'd stroked his hair. Saphira had been worried that Bree would resent Arya and Eragon's growing attachment to her, but had been happy to be persuaded that Bree felt for Eragon the way she did her younger brothers back home. She missed them terribly and assured the worried dragon that she could only see them in Eragon, and there was no way she would date one of her brothers.

Murtagh had leant back in alarm at Saphira's strange behaviour relaxing only slightly when Eragon explained to him that she was laughing.

"Why did you never tell me that you were my father, or that you were a dragon rider?" Eragon asked Brom, the mood once again becoming sombre.

"Some memories are too painful to retell." He placed a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "I was not sure at first where your mother, Selena, would have gone. It had been nearly two years since the night I had last seen her when I arrived in Carvahall. I approached the inn keeper and was told where I could find your uncle, Selena's brother Garrow, and his wife. When I knocked on the door, and saw two happy children playing in the front yard, I pretended to be looking for work. Your uncle was very kind, offered me some chores in exchange for a bed and a hot meal. I moved to the inn the next day. You were loved in that that house and I knew you would be safer there then with me, especially if the Empire should discover my whereabouts."

"You could have at least told me about Zar'roc, if not Murtagh."

"If I had told you the name of Zar'roc's owner and of its origins, what would you have done?"

Eragon thought carefully about his answer, "I suppose I probably would have run away at the first opportunity."

_You would do well to rid yourself of that sword,_ Saphira said with distaste. _I know it is a peerless weapon, but you would be better off with a normal blade rather than Morzan's butchery tool._

_Perhaps,_ said Eragon. _This blade probably killed many Riders in its time, _he thought to her, his revulsion clear._ And even worse, dragons! _It felt unsettling to hold the sword of the man who had betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix. He said aloud, "even so, I'm going to carry it. I don't have a sword of my own. Until such time as I get one, I'll use Zar'roc."

Murtagh flinched as Eragon said the name. "It's your choice," he said, getting up and returning to the pot hanging over the fire, keeping his gaze lowered.

Bree pulled Eragon to his feet. "Come fight me oh Master Swordsman, then after dinner we can all go to bed and wake up refreshed. There'll be plenty of time to talk on the way to Gilead."

Sweating and breathing heavily after her duel against Eragon, Bree flopped to ground beside Murtagh nodding as he handed her a bowl. Eragon had won again, of course, but Bree definitely felt she was getting better. As long as she didn't attack too soon, she could keep Eragon at bay for several minutes. If she ever found herself in a fight, she was confident that she could hold her own until someone came to help her.

Saying their goodnights, the four human companions drifted off to sleep to the light snores of Saphira and the muffled whinnying of the horses.

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A.N. How does everyone like this story so far? I'll have to assume you like it a little bit if you've read this far in. Okay, the next chapter will be out soon.

Happy reading guys.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters.

**A.N.** Everything's on the table now, one happy family.

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Chapter 13

They were riding through unsettled land. The road to Dras-Leona was several leagues to their left. They would skirt the city by a wide margin on the way to Gil'ead, which was almost as far to the north as Carvahall.

The days rolled by unnoticed as their small group travelled in isolation. Eragon was pleased to find that he and Murtagh had a lot in common; they spent hours debating the finer points of archery and hunting. Brom often joined these conversations, adding his knowledge and experience to the discussions, while Bree would shake her head and mutter 'boys' when they would begin gesturing wildly to express their points. He had been worried that he would have little he could talk to his new brother about but it seemed that it would be the same as it always had been with Bree. The group could ride in a comfortable silence for hours at a time or talk about the most trivial things together.

The first week went by without any sign of the Ra'zac, which allayed some of their fears. Even so, they still kept watches at night. Everyone but Bree had expected to encounter Urgals on the way to Gil'ead, but they found no trace of them. "I thought these remote places would be teeming with monsters," Eragon remarked to the group one morning as they rode through a sparse area of trees, adding, "Though I'm not one to complain if they've gone elsewhere."

Bree shook her head and, without meeting the eyes of her companions, said, "they're probably mostly around the borders of the Hadarac Desert by now; easier for Galbatorix to use them against the Varden from there."

Murtagh appeared a little stunned. "The Urgals wouldn't fight for a human."

"They would if they were being controlled by magic," Bree explained. "Once Durza is killed they'll all be free and they can go back to their homes."

"The Shade!" he exclaimed.

"Yep. The Shade that has Arya and that we now heading towards is in control of the Urgals."

There was a moment of silence as they lead the horses over a small stream. "What are we going to do about this Shade?" Murtagh asked after they had all remounted. "We can't very well just walk up and remove his head."

_I'm sure I could, and happily._ Eragon conveyed Saphira's thought to the others.

"A Shade must be pierced through the heart if you wish to kill him," Brom interjected. "And none of you are to even attempt it; it is far too dangerous."

The teenagers gave their words when Brom demanded they promise not to seek out Durza, he had said there was no point in asking for more trouble than they were already sure to get.

It was nearing dusk when the group stopped to make camp for the night. Brom sat sharpening their swords and Murtagh spent several minutes stroking the face and neck of his horse while Bree and Eragon prepared dinner. "You have beautiful horse. What's his name?" asked Eragon, coming to stand beside Murtagh and offering him a bowl of stewed meat.

"Tornac, after the man who taught me how to fight," Murtagh said as he patted the horse's side. "He was given to me when he was just a foal. You'd be hard pressed to find a more courageous and intelligent animal in all of Alagaësia, Saphira excepted, of course."

"He is a magnificent beast," said Eragon admiringly.

Murtagh laughed. "Yes, but Snowfire is as close to his match as I've ever seen and Maybell is not far off." The boys continued talking as they headed back towards the small fire, sitting down next to each other and discussing horses while they ate.

Bree smiled and nudged Brom, nodding her head in their direction when he looked up. Brom couldn't help but show a small smile. Over the past week he had become accustomed to having Murtagh as part of their group. As Murtagh and Brom were the best hunters they tended to spend an hour or two together each day, tracking and hunting, and Brom had come to trust the boy a little more. He was still wary about having the son Morzan in the camp but he could not say that the boy was anything like his father.

Bree was just delighted that the two could get along as brothers, she wasn't sure that Eragon had really grasped that he had his brother and his father sitting next to him. _Sometimes that boy can be so thick-headed,_ she thought exasperatedly to Saphira, a chuckle drifting through her thoughts in reply.

Eragon dreamed of the woman no more. And though he tried to scry her, he only saw an empty cell. If it hadn't of been for Bree assuring them the elf was indeed in Gil'ead, Eragon would have insisted on searching the jails of every town and village they found themselves passing by.

Their travels forced them toward the capital, Urủ'baen. It was a heavily populated area, which made it difficult to escape notice. Soldiers patrolled the roads and guarded the bridges. It took them several tense, terrible days to skirt the city. They had used disguises at each check point, becoming increasing elaborate as they spotted wanted posters. In each town several notices had been displayed, featuring Eragon's name and description and offering a substantial reward for his capture. Most trips into the shopping areas had been carried out by Bree and Brom because, although there were posters for them as well, they were merely described as being a girl magic user and an old man who were considered dangerous and wanted for questioning. Bree had huffed indignantly when she had seen that the reward for her capture was only slightly more than that of a pick-pocket and considerably smaller than Eragon's. She had stalked off after Brom, muttering about who had thrown rocks and who had been having a nice nap when they'd last met the Ra'zac, stopping only when Brom hissed for her to be quiet. Murtagh had also joined several shopping trips; Galbatorix wasn't yet prepared to tarnish Murtagh's reputation on the hopes that when he was found, the king could gain his allegiance and so there were no wanted notices displaying his face. The king was likely hoping that the boy would either come back of his own accord or someone would soon recognise him and alert the army.

Once they were safely past Urủ'baen, they found themselves on the edge of a vast plain. Brom told them it was the same one he and Eragon had crossed after leaving Palancar Valley, except now they were on the opposite side. Brom spread out a map at Bree's request and pointed out the different locations. "So we just keep going until we reach Isenstar Lake?" asked Bree.

"Iss-EN-star," Brom sounded out, correcting her pronunciation.

"Like Islanzadí?" she asked. "Sorry, I can read what it says; you just have slightly different grammar here."

"I don't even want to know how you knew the elf queen's name," Brom said, throwing up his hands.

"Same way she knows about the elf princess, I suppose." Eragon playfully nudged her with his shoulder, following Brom's lead in remounting. They keep to the perimeter of the plain and continued north, following the Ramr River.

Eragon's sixteenth birthday came and went during this time. At Carvahall a celebration would have been held for his entrance into manhood, but in the wilderness he would have made no mention of it, unfortunately Brom a better memory then he, at times, let on. Bree had planted a thin twig in his bowl of stew that night and, saying "brisingr" had lit the top of the twig alight. She had then demanded that he blow out the flame and make a wish, explaining that were she came from this was a traditional way to celebrate your birthday, except they had cake instead of stew. She had then glared at the offending meal.

At nearly six months of age, Saphira was much larger. Her wings were massive; every inch of them was needed to lift her muscular body and thick bones. The fangs that jutted from her jaw were nearly as thick around as Eragon's fist, their points as sharp as Zar'roc. With her increased size and strength, Saphira was now able to carry two people for short flights. Brom had stepped forward when she had first made the suggestion to take them up with her and had been the first to try the unorthodox flight and equally unorthodox landing. After the first landing had sent up a cloud of dust when Saphira had pitched forward after setting her feet on the ground, she had sheepishly explained that there was a different balancing of weight needed when there was more than one person on her shoulders. A few more successful landings with Eragon and Brom had convinced Murtagh that it was safe to give it a go. It took several attempts to even get Bree in the saddle and she had spent the entire flight with her arms in a death grip around Eragon and her face buried against his shoulder, chanting "please don't crash" and "don't look down." At one point Eragon had heard her make a faint scream then mutter "looked down. Don't look down, don't look down."

The humans had also grown; Eragon was now a fit, well-muscled young man with no trace of the lingering baby fat Bree had noticed when she had first arrived in Alagaësia, growing stronger and calmer. She too had changed, from a rounded young woman used to a simple life and luxuries; she had become slimmer with faint, yet definite muscle tone. Her skin had darkened slightly and her hair had developed golden highlights from weeks in the sun. Murtagh had also changed from a few weeks ago when he had been a noble living in a palace. His muscles had been well defined before he left the city from years of sword training, but his skin had also tanned and his dark hair had grown out to where it brushed his shoulders. Bree had often caught herself wanting to run her fingers through it; she couldn't understand how he always kept his hair looking so clean and knot free when it would take her forever to do hers.

The sparring had become interesting over the past weeks. The night after their secrets had been revealed, Eragon had challenged Murtagh to a duel. They had spelled their swords and moved to a spot clear of saddlebags and away from Saphira's tail and the fire. Eragon had settled into a crouch, then swung at Murtagh's shoulder, where Bree liked to go low Eragon tended to aim high. Their swords met in mid-air. Eragon disengaged with a flourish, thrust, then riposted as Murtagh parried, dancing away.

They had struggled back and forth, trying to batter each other down. After a particularly intense series of blows, Murtagh had started laughing. Not only was it impossible for either of them to gain an advantage, but they were so evenly matched that they tired at the same rate. They had acknowledged each other's skill with grins and fought on until their arms were leaden and sweat poured off their sides.

Finally Eragon had called, "Enough, halt!" and Murtagh stopped in mid-blow, sitting down heavily with a gasp. Eragon had staggered to the ground, his chest heaving. None of his fights with Brom had been this fierce and Bree could only tickle him into submission.

As he gulped in air, Murtagh had exclaimed, "You're amazing! I've studied swordplay all my life, but I've never fought one like you. You could be the king's weapon master if you wanted to."

"Wait until you have a go against Brom, he'll kick your but I'm sure," Bree laughed, smiling fondly at the old man.

"You're just as good," observed Eragon, still panting. "The man who taught you, Tornac, could make a fortune with a fencing school. People would come from all parts of Alagaësia to learn from him."

"He's dead," said Murtagh shortly.

Bree had wanted to ask more but had thought better of it considering his tone, saying instead, "I'm sorry."

And with three master swordsmen and girl competent enough that she wouldn't be the cause of too many accidents, they had begun really learning how to fight multiple opponents, taking it in turns to fight two or even three against one. For the first few days everyone was glad they hadn't been attacked all at one by a large group of people. The younger members of the group had enough difficulty holding off two attackers that if a third joined they didn't last long. Bree had even taken to throwing down her sword, dropping to her knees, covering her head with her hands and begging them not to hurt her.

Thus it had become their custom to fight in the evening, which kept them all lean and fit like their well-matched blades. With the return of Eragon's health after his ribs had been healed and Brom having regained consciousness, Eragon and Bree had resumed practising magic. Bree had found she didn't always need to say the word aloud, sometimes just focusing on what she wanted would have the same result, if a little weaker, and she could now float and throw pebbles with lethal precision. Murtagh had been curious about their training and soon revealed that he knew a surprising amount about how it worked, though he lacked the precise details and could not use it himself. Whenever the two practised speaking in the ancient language, Murtagh would listen quietly, occasionally asking what a word meant.

On the outskirts of Gil'ead they stopped the horses side by side. It had taken them nearly a month to reach the city, during which time spring had finally nudged away the remnants of winter. From a distance they could see the city was a rough, barbaric place, filled with log houses and yapping dogs. There was a rambling stone fortress at its centre. The air was hazy with blue smoke. The place seemed more like a temporary trading post than a permanent city. Five miles beyond the city was the hazy outline of Isenstar Lake.

They decided to camp two miles from the city, for safety. The plan was that, at dusk, Brom and Eragon would slip into Gil'ead and seek out Brom's old friend Dormnad and if possible the exact location of Arya; they were hoping that Dormnad would be able to give them that information as well. While their dinner simmered, Murtagh said, "I'm not sure you should be the one to go into Gil'ead." He looked at Eragon. "The Empire wants you much more than they do any of us. I know that if I were to be captured, I could eventually escape. But if _you_ are taken, they'll drag you to the king, where you'll be in for a slow death by torture, unless you join him. Gil'ead is one of the army's major staging points. Those aren't houses out there; they're barracks. Going in there would be like handing yourself to the king on a gilded platter."

"And Saphira too, you know she'd never be able to desert you, Eragon," added Bree. She wasn't too keen on this plan either. "And if Brom is captured the king would probably have him skinned for everything he's done."

"I'd rather not have any of you accompanying me. It is too risky," said Brom.

Eragon asked Saphira for her opinion. She wrapped her tail around his legs and lay down next to him. _You shouldn't have to ask me; they speak sense. If anyone is to risk capture it should be him, because he would live through it. I wouldn't want to send Bree in among all those nasty smelly men, we wouldn't get her back._

Eragon grimaced._ I don't like letting him put himself in danger for us. _"All right you can go," he said reluctantly to Murtagh after relaying to everyone what Saphira had told him. "But if anything goes wrong, I'm coming after you."

"_We're_ coming after you," Bree corrected.

Murtagh laughed. "That would be fit for a legend: how a lone dragon rider, an old man and a girl took on the king's army." He chuckled again.

"My dear boy, that is exactly what we are doing now," Brom laughed, giving Murtagh a pat on the shoulder as the boy stood.

"Is there anything I should know before going?"

"Shouldn't we rest and wait until tomorrow?" asked Bree anxiously, looking to where the sun was only now heading towards the horizon; it wouldn't be dark for another few hours yet.

"Why? The longer we stay here, the greater the chance that we'll be discovered. We shouldn't remain near Gil'ead for longer than a few days, less if we can manage it. I don't like knowingly being this close to shade," said Brom as he helped Murtagh to saddle the grey warhorse. Brom told Murtagh what he should say to Dormnad to establish his credibility.

"Very well," said Murtagh, adjusting his sword. "Unless there's trouble, I'll be back within a couple of hours; by dawn at the very latest. Make sure there's some food left for me."

Bree gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Just be careful and don't get caught," she said, taking a step back but leaving her hands on his shoulders until he had promised he would stay safe. With a wave of his hand, he jumped onto Tornac and rode away. Eragon and Bree sat by the fire, tapping their fingers against their knees and scuffing their feet in the dirt apprehensively. Brom just sighed and moved to finish cooking their evening meal.

Hours past, but Murtagh did not return. Eragon paced around the fire, Zar'roc in hand, Bree was laying down staring unseeingly at the stars above them, and Brom and Saphira watched Gil'ead attentively for any sign of a disturbance. None of them voiced their worries, though Brom had unobtrusively readied the camp for a quick departure should a detachment of soldiers leave the city and head towards them.

_Look,_ snapped Saphira suddenly.

They all swivelled toward Gil'ead, alert. Bree had recently taken to keeping the faintest of contact with Saphira's mind so that she could be informed of things as quickly as the others; all it took was for Saphira to think about talking her for Bree to listen fully.

From their vantage point they could see a distant horseman exit the city and ride furiously toward their camp. "I don't like this," said Brom. Gesturing to Eragon he added, "Be ready to fly; Bree mount up."

Bree began to move towards Maybell but stopped and spun back to look at the horseman, sighing in relief. "It's Murtagh." She had reached out, trying to find the thoughts of the man in case it was Durza, in which case they shouldn't stick around to say 'hello'. Thankfully she had met the now familiar defences of their newest companion.

As the rider approached, they could recognise Murtagh bent low over Tornac. No one seemed to be pursuing him, but he did not slow his reckless pace. He galloped into the camp and jumped to the ground, drawing his sword. "What's wrong?" asked Eragon.

Murtagh scowled. "Did anyone follow me from Gil'ead?"

"We didn't see any one said," Bree looked towards the city to double check there was no one coming, turning back to the others when she saw that it was all clear.

"Good. Then let me eat before I explain. I'm starving." He seized a bowl and began eating with gusto. After a few sloppy bites that made Bree wrinkle her nose in distaste, he said through a full mouth, "Dormnad has agreed to meet us outside the Gil'ead at sunrise tomorrow. If he's satisfied that it really Brom and the new Rider and not a trap, he'll try and help."

"Where are we to meet him?" Brom inquired, already planning precautions and a means of escape in the event that the trap was for them.

Murtagh pointed west and said, "On a small hill across the road."

"So what happened?" They had all joined him by the fire, beginning on their own neglected dinners.

Murtagh spooned more food into his bowl. "It's a rather simple thing, but all the more deadly because of it: I was seen in the street by someone who knows me. I did the only thing I could and ran away. It was too late, though; he recognized me."

It was unfortunate, but they were unsure of how bad it really was. "Since I don't know your friend," Brom said, "I have to ask, will he tell anyone?"

Murtagh gave a strained laugh. "If you _had_ met him, that wouldn't need answering. His mouth is loosely hinged and hangs open all the time, vomiting whatever happens to be in his mind. The question isn't _whether_ he will tell people, but _whom_ he will tell. If word of this reaches the wrong ears, we'll be in trouble."

"Murtagh," Bree began tentatively, "no one else knows you've been travelling with us, if you want to leave and avoid being caught up in all of trouble that's likely to come, now is probably as good a chance as you're going to get. We can't leave without at least trying to rescue Arya and when we do I get the feeling that everyone in that city is going to know about us."

Murtagh shook his head. "I'll stay with you until you leave to join the Varden. As I've said before I'd be better off in Urủ'baen than in the company of the Varden."

Eragon stared at him unhappily. He wanted Murtagh to stay. They had become friends during their travels and it was a nice feeling, knowing that his brother was with them; he was loath to tear that apart. He started to protest, but Saphira hushed him and said gently, _wait until tomorrow. Now is not the time._

_Very well,_ he said glumly, then aloud, "Well, I doubt that soldiers will be sent to search for you in the dark," Eragon pointed out. "We can at least count on being safe until morning, and by then, if all goes well, we'll meet with Dormnad, find Arya and leave as quickly as possible."

"I wouldn't count on it being so easy," Bree warned with a frown. "I feel as though I'm forgetting something important and it's not a good something," she added at their inquisitive looks.

They talked until the stars were bright in the sky, then slept, swords at their sides, as Saphira took the first watch.

Eragon awoke mere hours before dawn; the horizon was just beginning to lighten. His palm was tingling. Everything was still and quiet, but something sought his attention, like an itch in his mind. He buckled on Zar'roc and stood, careful not to make a sound. Saphira looked at him curiously, her large eyes bright. _What is it?_ she asked.

_Eragon?_ came the questioning thought from Bree; her thoughts joining with both of theirs. She had been keeping watch and had looked over to Eragon when he stood.

_I don't know,_ said Eragon. He saw nothing amiss.

_The last time you said that we were attacked by the Ra'zac, _Bree stated as she cautiously looked around the camp, listening for the slightest sound as she drew her own sword and slowly moved to rouse the sleeping forms of Brom and Murtagh.

Saphira sniffed the air curiously. She hissed a little and lifted her head._ I smell horses nearby, but they're not moving. They reek with an unfamiliar stench._

Bree crept to Murtagh and shook his shoulder while Eragon did the same for Brom. Murtagh woke with a start, yanked a dagger from under his blankets, then looked at Bree quizzically. She had learnt early in their acquaintance to move back quickly as soon as you'd nudged Murtagh. She held a finger to her lips, signalling for him to stay quiet, gesturing towards the trees with a nod of her head. Seeing her sword in her hands, Murtagh didn't question her but stood quickly, with his hand-and-a-half blade drawn and ready. He simply nodded when Bree whispered to him, "there are horses nearby."

They quietly stationed themselves around Saphira, prepared for an attack; Saphira's bulk would offer some protection to their backs but they had to also protect her as she could not see all around herself at the one time. As they waited, the morning star rose in the east. A squirrel chattered.

Then an angry snarl from behind made Eragon spin around, sword held high. A broad Urgal stood at the edge of the camp closest to him, carrying a mattock with a nasty spike. _Where did he come from? We haven't seen their tracks anywhere!"_ thought Eragon. The Urgal roared and waved his weapon, but did not charge.

_Eragon! More will be coming. I remember now, you were attacked by Urgals in the book. Murtagh's friend must have said something that reached Durza._ Bree's frantic voice came through his thoughts.

"Brisingr!" barked Eragon, stabbing out with his magic. The Urgal's face contorted with terror as he exploded in a flash of blue light. Blood splattered Eragon and a brown mass flew through the air. Behind him, Saphira bugled with alarm and reared. Eragon twisted around. While he had been occupied with the first Urgal, a group of them had run up from the side. _Of all the stupid tricks to fall for! _He thought to himself.

Steel clashed loudly as Murtagh and Brom attacked the Urgals, Bree darting from side to side avoiding as many blows as she could and blocking those that came to close. Eragon tried to join them but was blocked by four of the monsters. The first one swung a sword at his shoulder. He ducked the blow and killed the Urgal with magic. He caught a second one in the throat with Zar'roc, wheeled wildly, and slashed a third through the heart. As he spun to meet the fourth he was distracted by a scream, glancing to his left he saw Bree in the grip of an Urgal, its fist wrapped around the top of her arm. Taking advantage of Eragon's lapse in focus, the fourth Urgal rushed at him, swinging a heavy club.

Eragon saw him coming and tried to lift his sword to block the club, but was a second too slow. As the club came down on his head, he screamed, "Fly, Saphira!" A burst of light filled his eyes and he lost consciousness.

Bree struggled against the Urgal's hold on her arm. She had made to block its blow from what looked like an altered axe, but the Urgal had been too strong for her and it easily knocked the sword from her grip, grabbing her arm as she tried to duck out of its way.

Murtagh and Brom had also heard her scream but had been too heavily engaged in fighting the dozen or so Urgals that had emerged from the cover of the trees to be able to offer her any assistance. Bree could do nothing but kick and scream and hit at anything she could reach as the Urgal dragged her through the trees to where men on horseback awaited the end of the attack.

Still kicking and screaming, Bree had been held while a soldier bound her wrists in front of her, before the Urgal then passed her up to another soldier sitting astride his bay coloured horse. Eragon's limp body was soon thrown across the saddle of another horse by an Urgal carrying a heavy looking club. With their captives, the band of armed men turned their horses around and rode through the first rays of morning light to the gates of Gil'ead.

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Ta da! Review now please and tell me what you think.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or related characters.

**A.N.** Let's just get straight into the story shall we.

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Chapter 14

Bree had been placed in the saddle so she was sitting sideways and, if the soldier behind her hadn't had his arm around her waist, she would have fallen from the horse as soon as it started moving. _At least my hands are in front of me this time,_ she mused, trying to see Eragon through the mass of horses and mounted men, wondering how Brom and Murtagh were faring against the Urgals and the soldiers that had remained.

The soldiers galloped through the gates, neither stopping nor slowing until they had reached the fortress in the centre of the city; the only stone building Bree had seen during the ride. Reining his horse to a stop, the lead soldier dismounted and spoke quietly to the guards at the large iron bound doors. After a minute, during which Bree was still struggling to get free of her captor's hold and look around for Eragon, the guards nodded and stepped aside, opening one of the heavy wooden doors.

Bree was aiming to kick a soldier that was about to pass by and was going to put both feet into the kick but, instead of passing and joining the lead soldier, he stopped by the side of the horse, just out of kicking range, grabbed her by the hem of her dress and pulled her to the ground. Having been preparing to kick at him, Bree found herself unbalanced when her feet touched the ground and she toppled into another soldier. He seized her by the tops of her arms and, setting her back on her feet, roughly pushed her towards the doors. Bree didn't want to go forward but she could see Eragon ahead of her, his limp body being dragged across the cobblestones and through the doors by two of the guards. She hurried to catch up with them, the accompanying soldier pushing her from behind with the tip of his sword whenever she slowed.

They went deeper into the fortress, following a long, dimly lit hallway before descending a short flight of steps into a narrow corridor lined with thick, heavy looking wooden doors. Bree watched as they dragged Eragon into a cell, dropping him onto a dilapidated looking cot and bolting the door behind them when the left. Bree sighed in relief; they wouldn't lock the door on a dead person. She had been worried at the blood she had seen on the side of his face. The soldier poked her in the back once again and she was directed to a cell a few doors down from Eragon's. Bree grimaced as she was pushed inside, her body making contact with the slimy, moss covered wall and, before she had the chance to turn around she heard the door slam and the sound of an iron bolt being slid into place.

Bree kicked at the wall in anger, failing to reach Eragon's mind and the others were too far away for her too contact; too many, minds between them and her. She paced the few steps between the walls before flopping down onto the filthy, blanket-less cot with a muffled scream. Her heart began to race. _Don't panic, don't panic,_ she thought to herself. _You just need a plan, that's all. You have magic and a Dragon Rider, you can get out of this, easy._ She refused to allow herself to remember that Eragon was of no use until he woke up.

Bree took several deep breaths as she looked around the cell. There was a window in the top of the wall but she wouldn't be able to see out of it without standing on her toes or maybe jumping. The wall beneath the window was covered in slim and would make any attempt at getting a foothold to climb out extremely difficult. She might not even be able to pull herself up that high, certainly not with her hands bound. She looked around the room for something she could use to cut the rope. Noticing a protruding bit a brick on the far wall, Bree moved over to it and began rubbing the rope along the rough, stone edge, sometimes grazing her skin of her hands on the wall. It took several precious minutes but the coarse fibres in the rope began to fray and loosen until she was able to slip it from her wrists. She moved the door, tried pushing it first but it wouldn't open, then she tried using magic, saying the word for open. There was silence, the bolt hadn't moved and when she tried the door again it still wouldn't open. Bree considered breaking the wood but determined that after fighting the Urgals she was too drained to use such magic and then fight the guards that would come from resulting explosion of noise.

_Now what?_ She thought desperately, as she tried again to contact Eragon and the others with no success.

She drifted through the thoughts of the other prisoners. There were many more than she had been expecting; men, women and children had all been tortured and left to suffer in cold, damp cells. Suddenly Bree came across the mind of prisoner, but with this one she could see a barrier. A few of the guards in the rooms above had barriers but his was the first captive she had come across. Slipping through the distortion of colour Bree viewed the person's memories. Glimpses of trees with houses growing from their branches, a tall woman with a crown resting on dark hair, a golden dragon, riders falling from their horses with arrows in their sides, a ring a fire, a pale hand raising a blue stone to the sky, a flash of light, a cell similar to Bree's and pain beyond measure that even made Bree wince forced her to pull back to the surface thoughts. The woman, she was sure it was a woman, was still in indescribable pain but there was conscious thought. Bree saw that she was hoping the egg was safe and that she might die soon, _better death,_ she was thinking, _than this continuous torture._

_Arya? _Bree hoped she was right. The woman's thoughts seemed to freeze for a moment before she dismissed the voice as an illusion from the pain. _Arya, is that you?_ The thoughts froze again, resuming as the woman tried to lift her head and glance around the room. _Just lay still,_ said Bree, soothingly, _you can't see me._ The woman had begun to realise that the voice really was in her head and not somewhere in the cell.

_Who are you and how do you know my name,_ came her faint reply.

_My name is Bree. You're the elf that carried Saphira's egg between the elves and the Varden._

_It has a name? It's hatched?_ The woman's thoughts were confused and faded in places as though she were barely conscious.

_Yes, she just outside the city, we were attacked by Urgals and soldiers a little while ago. Eragon is in a cell nearby._

There was a moment of silence as Arya tried to stay awake. _Eragon, he is the Rider?_ Bree sent an affirmative and felt Arya's despair at the Dragon Rider's capture. Bree could see her thinking about what this meant for Alagaësia; a Rider on a blue dragon decimating the Varden in their mountain stronghold. Arya suddenly seemed to remember that someone was in her thoughts and she had just been picturing the location of the Varden. _Don't worry,_ Bree tried to reassure her, _I've already picked the information from Brom's head as a precaution._ Her words had the opposite affect Bree intended.

_Where are you?_ The elf's thoughts had become angry. And scared. She was wondering what had been done to Brom, if he had been tortured as she had.

_I'm in a cell too, you're,_ Bree paused and counted the minds between her and Arya, _seven down from me and I'm about four down from Eragon. I can't tell you where Brom is, he's too far for me to reach. The last I saw he was fighting off several Urgals and there were soldiers on horseback ready to step in if the Urgals lost._

_You're a prisoner? But how are you in my thoughts, I am weak but my mind is still mostly secure. You should not be in here._ The voice was worried.

_I'll have to explain that after we escape. It tends to go into a very long, convoluted narrative of my life._

_There is no escape from here,_ Arya said, her tone defeated. _There is a Shade here, you may be able to read my thoughts but I can assure you that you will be no match for his magic._

Bree huffed. _Well I wasn't planning on meeting him, Eragon's the one that got killing Durza into his when we started planning to rescue you. I was more for the 'wait until he leaves the city, slip in, rescue the damsel in distress and leave quickly' plan. Then we were attacked and now I'm stuck here, Eragon's unconscious and I've got no clue what's happened to the others._

_You came here to rescue me? Knowing of the Shade?_ Arya was shocked and horrified._ You should not have, now the king will have a Rider at his command. He will twist Eragon until he does his bidding. The Varden will be lost with any hope of freedom for the people of Alagaësia. _

_Yep. _At Arya's incredulous thoughts, Bree quickly added, _the rescuing, not the doom and gloom stuff. Remember, _we're escaping_, so Eragon won't be subjected to Galbatorix and his weirdness, will he? We came to rescue you because you don't deserve to be here, no-one does, and as long as you're in this cell Eragon is going to get nightmares about it. you tend to be a bit boring and from this conversation, I gotta say you're not coming across as very cheery either, but you are important and people like you so why not?_

_Because you have now been captured, that is why not!_

_You are too pessimistic, princess. We _are_ going to escape; even if I have to stick my finger up at Durza to do it._ Bree stated confidently.

There was silence again, then, _you speak strange words._ Arya was growing tired and her eyelids began dropping.

_As long as you can understand me. Go to sleep; I'm not going anywhere. _Bree tried unsuccessfully to joke and was grateful that the elf was now asleep. _Now where _is_ Durza?_ She thought as she reached her mind out. She really should have begun looking for him before; multitasking while she spoke with Arya the way she was now, flicking between her search for Durza and checking on Eragon, Arya while also looking for Brom, Saphira and Murtagh.

Soon enough, Bree had found him. It was not hard as his mind was a writhing mass of thoughts, all whispering together; whispering dark things. He was on an upper level of the stone building, speaking to the soldier Bree believed had lead the attack on their camp. He was reporting to Durza on the outcome of their raid, mentioning the capture of the Dragon Rider and the girl, meaning her. She sighed in relief when the soldier explained that with the aid of the dragon, the other two men had escaped, killing the last of the Urgals and driving off the soldiers. Bree was so thankful they were alive but grew concerned as the soldier was dismissed and a guard ordered to show Durza to their cells. _Please don't wake up Eragon,_ she pleaded silently as she watched Durza descend into dark of the dungeon level, keeping to the surface thoughts as she watched through his mind; she didn't want what she had cautiously identified as the evil spirits to know she was listening.

Bree held her breath as Durza approached Eragon's cell, she could not here the door unlock through the wooden door of her cell, so she listened intently thought Durza's thoughts. He soon left the cell, having dosed Eragon with the same liquid the Ra'zac had used, effectively removing any magical threat he might have posed; as well as cutting off Bree's ability to contact him effectively when he did finally wake.

Bree backed against the far wall of her cell as the Shade approached. She heard the bolt as it slowly ground through the lock and then the door swung open to reveal Durza. He looked her over as she huddled against the wall in fear; she was still in his mind after all and knew what tortures he was planning. He dismissed the guard, closing the door behind him as he entered the small cell.

"What do we have here? Hmm?" He walked towards Bree, stopping to stand in front of her, eyeing her up and down. Bree clenched her fists at her side and looked straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. "You're far too young and pretty to have been such a great nuisance. Yes," he answered her unspoken question, "I have heard of your run in with the Ra'zac. I didn't believe it at first. A young lady travelling with a group of criminals, undisguised, sleeping in a seedy establishment or on the ground in the dirt? It was unthinkable." He stepped closer and reached out to finger the material of her dress, looking her up and down once more. Bree had chosen to wear a pale green sundress for the increasing heat of the day, adding a pair a black, knee-length leggings with a black lace trim. She found that Maybell's saddle would pinch the inside of her thighs if she wasn't wearing pants. Durza took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest in a lazy gesture that spoke of how un-threating he found her.

"Why are you here, little girl, so far from home?" he asked, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. Bree's examination of his thoughts was showing that he believed she wasn't from Alagaësia, his inspection of her clothing had brought him to his conclusion; it was far different from anything he had seen in this country.

At first, Bree couldn't speak she was so horrified at what the evil spirits were saying, encouraging, Durza to do. She'd really like to keep her spleen where it was, so she took a deep breath and bravely said, "I'm here because we were attacked by Urgals under your control and then I was brought here by soldiers, men I can only assume you command as well, if not with magic then by Galbatorix's orders."

"And what makes I have any control over the Urgals?" he asked silkily.

Self-preservation kicked in and Bree said determinedly, "Because I'm inside your head, I have been since you were upstairs. I can read anyone's thoughts while my own stay blocked." _Let him chew on that for a while,_ she thought. She could see in his thoughts that he would be less likely to kill her now that she was of interest; rather than just a nuisance magic handler. Galbatorix had plenty of those at his disposal but if she telling the truth about being able to pass his mental shields, Durza was thinking that the king may have use of her. He found that it was true that he could not read her thoughts, but he did not believe she could read his.

"I am not convinced; you will have to prove it to me. What is it I am thinking about," he asked.

Bree shuddered, then answered, "The same things they are."

"Who?" demanded the Shade, stepping closer.

"The spirits, they're whispering things I'd rather not repeat."

Durza glared at her for several seconds then laughed, turning his back to her. Bree knew he didn't believe her and that he was chiding himself on ever thinking otherwise. Thoughts of torture began swirling through his head and made Bree want to say anything to stop him.

Closing her eyes she went deeper into his thoughts, to where he would be able to hear her and repeated words from an electronic message in her past, picturing the little green creature that had voiced the words.

_I'm the crazy voice inside your head._

_Is the coffee pot still on?_

_Did you leave the front door open?_

_Is all your stuff now gone?_

Durza had spun around at first hearing the new voice in his thoughts. He was used to hearing the many voices of the spirits that had overtaken his body, but this one was decidedly female. He listened as she continued, watching her stand with her eyes partly closed and head lowered, so she wasn't looking at him.

_You're not getting much done today,_

_Is that your boss I hear?_

_You'd better get back to work_

_(Though you'd rather have a beer)._

_I'm the voice inside your head._

_I'll try to make you fat and lazy._

_I'll talk streams of nonsense intended to drive you crazy_

_Don't think that you can meditate and I'll just go away,_

_I'm the crazy voice inside you head _

_And here I'm going to stay._

The poem was amusing and he wondered where she had heard it, most likely from her homeland as he had never heard of a 'coffee pot'. He was intrigued now. This girl was able to enter his thoughts unnoticed and without challenge, not even the king could say as much. She was very interesting, very interesting indeed. The king would be pleased to be presented with such gifts; the new Rider _and_ an odd little girl. "Very clever," he conceded.

She was looking at him oddly. "You're more lucid then I was expecting," Bree noted, catching the shade off guard. "I would have thought you'd sound a little more insane. Not that don't sound insane," she amended when he glared at her. "It's just that, with all those voices talking at once, I'm surprised you can even form sentences, let alone ones that make sense."

Durza was surprised at her boldness and grinned maliciously as he stepped forward, placing a hand on the wall beside her head, holding her chin in place with his other. "The king will be pleased. It would be a shame to lose that fire. Tell me everything I want to know and I'll consider not torturing you." He spoke softly but he was close enough to her face that Bree heard each word clearly. "Now, tell me, why were you camped so close to Gilead? What were your friends planning?" he asked.

Bree debated answering seeing that he didn't think she had much to do with what the men decided; she was little more than a girl and therefore of small importance. Finally, figuring it was in her interest to say_ something_, she said quietly, "We needed supplies and were going to go in this morning. It was late and we figured any merchants would have already closed their shops."

"Don't lie to me, little one," he purred, a hard light in his eyes. "You will only make it more difficult on yourself."

"That's what they said," she told him meekly, going with what he had already assumed about her. Durza didn't seem to buying it. He moved his hand from her chin and wrapped it around her throat, squeezing slightly. She saw that the intent behind this move was too scare her into revealing something. "We would purchase the supplies we needed and then head to Varden. That's all they told me. Please, believe me," she added, her voice pleading. She gasped as she realised that she had mentioned the Varden. _Damn, it does work,_ she thought, horrified at what she had said.

Durza looked interested now, becoming more believing of what she said when he saw the anguish in her eyes. "And where are the Varden?" he asked. Her eyes widened, _you can't tell him, think Bree._ Durza's hand tightened and Bree sobbed in fear and frustration. "Tell me," he demanded.

"I don't know," she said again, tears running down her face. Bree absentmindedly noted the tears were a good effect, made her seem more believable. "There was a riddle we had to solve to find them; I'm not good at riddles." Bree was sobbing heavily now.

"Tell me the riddle," he said, loosening his grip when Bree coughed from the pressure. She sniffled and recited:

"`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!  
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!  
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun  
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:  
Long time the manxome foe he sought -  
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,  
And stood awhile in thought."

He looked contemplatively at the wall to her left. "It makes little sense," he said. "Is that all of it," asked the Shade, suspicious.

Bree nodded. "The old man at Dras-Leona made sure we had it memorized." She continued when Durza reapplied pressure to her throat. "He didn't tell us his name, called himself 'the seeing one'. He recognised Eragon at the tavern and came over to speak to us." Durza nodded in contemplation, beginning shortly after with a new round of questions.

"What of the old man you travel with, what is his name?"

"Neil, he said he met Eragon outside of Yazuac."

"How long has the son of Morzan been travelling with you. No, I can guess that one. He was there when the Ra'zac fled, was he not? The unknown attacker," Durza mused. "The king will be displeased to hear this."

The questioning continued for over an hour, Bree held against the wall as the Shade attempted to learn everything she knew. Bree found she had to answer some things truthfully as she was sure he already knew the answer, such as could she perform magic, and how did Eragon come by the dragon egg. For everything else though, she lied through her teeth. The sobs and reluctant answers made her convincing and Durza began to feel certain that she was just a simple child, easily mislead into following the male travellers and that he could easily control her until she was delivered to the king. Bree was extremely thankful that she could read minds.

Not to overdo the dramatics, she held back more sobs and just sniffled miserably when Durza removed his hand from around her throat and took a step back. "I cannot have you using magic and causing mischief among my men," he said, pulling out a small glass bottle from within his robes. Bree gulped knowing what it was. Durza continued at her wary expression, saying "You are familiar with this, yes? It is the same potion the Ra'zac would have used when they attacked you. It slows the mind and makes it nearly impossible to use magic, even to remember the words of power." He stepped forward and Bree found she could not move from the wall, he was holding her there with magic. She struggled as he came closer. Gripping her chin again, he forced her mouth open and trickled the burning liquid down her throat. Bree spluttered and coughed but enough had made it down that she was suddenly dizzy. He had used more than the Ra'zac and it seemed to be working fast. As darkness crept along the edges of her vision she felt her body rise and tilt backwards before it came to rest on the lumpy mattress of the cot. The last thing she heard before the darkness consumed her was the sound of the bolt grinding into place.

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A.N. I was going to have a section for everyone, but Eragon can wait until tomorrow afternoon. I've got the early shift in the morning.


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